


Powder Keg

by TotemundTabu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Barely Legal, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Consensual Underage Sex, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom Robb Stark, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Fisting, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Frottage, Group Sex, I'm Sorry, Incest, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Object Penetration, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Squirt - Freeform, Squirting, Sub Theon Greyjoy, Teabagging, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Robb Stark, also everyone is a bit bisexual, the ooc necessary for all of this to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8479378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: PWP - Truly without a plot, despite the length - Ned doesn't accept Robert's offer, so him and the kids stay in the North, Robb and Theon grow closer even too much but not enough, Asha is chaotic neutral happening and Sansa falls in the middle of it. I am a bad person, I know.





	

**Powder Keg**

 

* * *

 

He will blame himself, if he needs to.

He will take the shame of admitting that there was no deeper cut and no highest jump- the razor's edge, the precipice on cliffs and the sea ready to swallow them... he brought them to dance there, to put their toes on such frail, thin ice.

But did he have a choice?

Did he, after all?

He closes his eyes, bends his head and yet he can almost see it anyway – Theon's smirk – as he bends for a kiss, holds his waist and pushes his tongue in his mouth. Robb stiffs, he doubts and for an instant he almost moves away, but Theon's hands on his waist are strong and as he drowns deep in his mouth, filling it, Robb can barely feel any strength left in himself to refuse it.

The other pair of hands caress his back, softly. Gently.

They caress his skin, lingering on the freckles, as if she were playing and trying to make out a drawing out of such a messy sprinkle of color. When she kisses his shoulder, Theon gets even more voracious and Robb can feel his mouth completely invaded by him.

A chuckle.

“Brother, leave me some, don't eat it all up.”

Theon seems to pout, offended.

Robb lets the hands turn him and Asha's lips softly brush against his own, her tongue painting them almost faintly just before she bites them. He chokes a moan and that to Theon is outrageous enough. 

Offended by the lack of attention, he proceeds to lick Robb's tender neck and suck it into a reddish purple. 

And Robb tries to remind himself of how he ended up in such a ridiculous situation. 

 

*

 

_We used to play pretend._

_Now thinking about it, that's all we ever did, isn't it?_

_You would kiss my lips and say it was a joke, a game - your lips would curl up in your usual smirk and I'd feel my heart crumble on the floor. Your fingers would play with me like you'd play the harp or shoot with your bow, my heart was just a new fancy target and the way my lips parted pathetically to beg you to stay was just another flattery, another ode, like the one’s you’ve heard hundreds of times from ladies and wenches both. Collect my plea too, if you must, but keep it dearer, the dearest of them all, the closest to that sealed heart of yours. Because I, only I, loved your melancholy much more than your fake smile._

“ _Are you already too drunk to speak?”_

_You look at me worried, there is almost a tender light shining in your eyes, as your lips soften the smug grip. You were bragging about some girl and I stopped listening._

“ _I wish I was too drunk to listen. - I try to make it sound like a joke, but fail and you furrow your eyebrows like an offended child, and I do melt, once again - You would kill any man's self-esteem with all of your talk.”_

_You raise your eyebrows and bend your lips in a victorious grin._

_I want to punch it, I want to kiss it. I want to get lost in your flavor and I want you to get lost in mine._

_And all I crave is for you to need me as eagerly and as furiously and as desperately as I do._

_When we crash against the walls, my heart is always the loudest one._

“ _Look, um, how about we leave this place? - he looks around – I don't feel like wenches tonight, they are so clingy...”_

_And me, am I not?_

_And without knowing why I am nodding and consenting to be again just a leftover of myself, left somewhere in a desolated corner, having to find my pieces again and by myself put them together._

_And when we go out, he pushes me against the wall, stars witnessing in the swollen black sky how he pushes himself against me and how his tongue finds my mouth. And I get lost in him, and he knows exactly where he is._

 

*

 

Theon almost snorts, “So your father refused the king's offer like that?”

“He said Sansa was already promised. - Robb scoffs - He offered Arya to Tommen, when they become of age.”

“That poor boy...”, Theon mumbles under his breath.

“I don't understand why he would lie like that, though? Sure, the prince is a prick, but...”

“Let him be. - he sighs, drinking heavily – So both your sisters are taken?”

Robb frowns, “I think my dad is considering a Tyrell boy, they are as rich as the Lannisters, but High Garden is a much safer choice... - he pauses, seeing Theon's upset look – What's up?”

“Nothing.”

“There is clearly something, speak.”

Theon looks around. A weird, offended anger makes his cheek mauve, “I... I think I just imagined that your father might give me one.”

Robb furrows his eyebrows.

“One of my sisters?”

“Yes. - Theon swallows – I'm his ward, after all? Aren't I? And... well, that would make a solid alliance with the Iron Islands, so...”

Robb stares at him for a long time, silently. Sipping his warm wine.

“Yes. It would have made sense.”

 

*

 

Robb loses every bit of his voice, as Theon's teeth sink in his neck, his hands still moving, rushing through his locks and then under his heavy fur coat.

Robb's face is red, panting, breathless. He seems to be begging him not to go.

Theon smirks, he curls his fingers and scratches Robb's neck, making him grunt.

And then he stops, hesitating a long while, as that grunt, deep and musky, come out strong and dark. He furrows his eyebrows, squints his eyes, his face pale.

He expected a moan, soft and warm and tender as wax.

And maybe it's then that he realizes Robb's close to sixteen now, no more the fourteen year old boy, and that throwing him on the floor or against the walls has gotten harder and will only get even more so. And he sees the little hint of hair on his chin differently now.

He swallows.

Robb's eyes are watery, filled with a light that’s close to breaking.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah. - Theon tries to play it off with a chuckle, but it comes out breathy, a bit dry – I... I don't feel like it. - he winks, separating – Maybe I'll go to give my regards to the miller's wife.”

Robb flinches.

“You... you are going away for the sake of seeing her?”

Theon laughs. The mock stings and sinks, deeper than he meant it to, probably.

“Are you jealous? I just feel like concluding a bit, playing is half the fun.”

Robb's hand trembles, he clenches his fist and bites his bottom lip.

Theon goes out without looking at him not even once again.

 

*

 

“And you, you will go to a Manderly. - Theon feels a weird bitterness rising in his mouth, screwing him in waves – One of that fat man's granddaughters. Your father is no fool, he wants you to have a nice port. He surely knows how to value outlets on the sea.”

“Wait, are you angry at me?”, Robb finds it vaguely hilarious. In a stingy and hurtful way.

Theon's smirk turns sour, “I hope Wyman at least will give you Wynafryd, with her big breast, instead of that seaweed brat who can't hold her tongue.”

Robb slams his fist on the wooden table.

“Do you think I'd be glad to marry any of them? Do you think this is what I want?”

Theon laughs.

“You get angry so easily. I was poking fun at you. - he lies, a gleam of hurt perfidy shone weakly in his dark eyes – Sorry, if it went too far.”

Robb swallows back the tears he can't show.

His heart sings with a deep sigh, swollen and inflated, begging for mercy from the burden of unsaid words. 

“You always go too far-”

 

*

 

_And you must know I want more._

_And you must know and mock me to yourself._

_I wonder if it comes to your mind, when you fuck those women, make them clench the sheets they should warm with their husbands, when you fill them up, if you think about this pathetic prince who would accept you to do the same to him._

_I wonder if you'd bear to see me like that. Or am I good only up above the chest? Years of yearning, of burning, of clinging to the crumbly mountain of your moody attentions, and you merely went beyond it. And as hair arrived and muscles too, taking away the softness, then your hand looked almost as if my chest scorched it._

_And yet my lips you still use. You find in them a wicked delight, my sultry voice makes you elated and hard._

_And then, then you meet someone's wife and thrust into her until both of you collapse in a heat I am left deprived of._

_I keep seeing your back on my doorstep, in my rooms you enter and exit freely without need of permission. And I never thought I should guard myself from you._

_And you're too beautiful._

_Beyond any Manderly girl... beyond any girl._

_Or anyone, really._

_I bit into my sheets, rubbing against them, as engorged pain turns into sparks and thunderous rivers of pleasure. A bitter, lonely pleasure._

_I want you._

_If I could ask whom to get wed to, I-_

 

*

 

“What would we do with the Iron Islands?”, Robb asks, abruptly.

Eddard frowns, confused, “What is there to do? Theon is their heir, when Balon dies, he will go back.”

Robb lowers his head, “With all due respect, they... we can't think they'll welcome him and crown him.”

Luwin nods, gravely, “His sister Asha is a most famous pirate, she is well respected and...”

Eddard sighs, interrupting him, “He is still the male heir and no woman can inherit until there is a boy around.”

“The Ironborns are not as fond of succession laws as much as they are of strength. They'd consider Theon a puppet in your hands, my lord, they wouldn't take it well. Barbaric people...”

“So? What? You think we got the wrong kid?”

“Any kid would have been the wrong kid, both would have still not changed much. - Luwin coughs – Were we to take all the children, they would have crowned an uncle or a squid, anything but a Stark's ward.”

“Then what are you two suggesting?”

Robb sighs, “I'm unsure. Maybe marrying one of my sisters to Theon, it would show the Stark's respect and no wish of commanding, rather reigning together.”

“You are smart, but too naive, my boy. - Luwin continues – They'd see it even more as Starks putting feet into their lands. In no time, we'd have sweet Sansa's head on a dish together with Theon's.”

Eddard seems to feel sick at the idea, he stiffs and falls into a dark silence.

“There must be a way to...”

“What do you expect? Me to make Theon lord of Winterfell to please the Ironborns? - his father scoffs, more worried than angry – Would that stroke their egos enough? If he married Sansa and got this? Nothing is ever enough. Were you to marry Asha, they'd think a Stark is peeing in their toilets.”

Robb's eyes shine.

“... father, what if it was Asha to pee in ours?”

“Excuse me?”

Robb seems to realize just now what he said.

“Let's make Theon's sister Lady of Winterfell. When Theon were to inherit the Islands, the female heir would not be able to inherit the throne. And this way... we would prove our intentions - not to invade them, but to build with them.”

“They don't sow and for sure don't build.”

“Theon does, maester Luwin!”, Robb almost shouts.

Eddard moves a bit forward, staring at his son in confusion.

“Theon has very little of ironborn in him, despite what he may think of himself. He is loyal and kind, he is a brother to me, he... he will build with us.”

“A brother?”

“A brother. As dear to me as Bran, Rickon or Jon, father.”

“And what should we do with the options we selected for you?”

“Little Wylla will be perfect for Bran. They'll be a good match.”

“Maybe he'll teach her how to hold her tongue...”

Robb smiles tenderly, “Please, father, consider this chance.”

Eddard sighs, meditative, “Manderly would probably not be offended if I gave him Bran instead of you, but I'm not sure an ironborn woman would be fit for you. - he scratches his solemn long forehead – But it is true the alliance with those people is fragile, it stays on the hope they'd either accept Theon or that Asha won't be as stubborn as her father.”

Luwin sighs, “What do you think, my lord?”

“I'm not sure, frankly, that your mother will allow me to give you a Greyjoy bride. - he admits, staring at Robb – She had hopes for a southern lady from the riverlands... the Manderly were a reasonable choice, but... a Greyjoy... - he lowers his eyes – We will invite the lady here. You'll get to know each other, maybe she'll be soft at the idea, if we promise to free Theon sooner.”

Robb is smiling, until the last words drop and then his look becomes dull and dark.

Oh, right, freeing Theon.

Theon would... go away. Forever.

He always knew, he always fought for it to be as good as possible, and Theon too, he didn't speak of anything else and... yet... yet, he-

“She won't accept an invitation to Winterfell, my lord.”, Luwin points out.

“Yet, they should meet before I change my plans.”

“The Neck, perhaps. - Robb proposes, hesitant – We can meet at Flint's Finger. Me, her, we'll bring Theon, for them to see each other and...”

“It's not a bad plan. But you'll need a strong escort.”

 

*

 

“This is a terrible plan.”

“I know. - Robb blurts – I don't have a better one.”

Jon rolls his eyes, “So you're gonna marry the only heir they like and you hope it will go well? She won't even answer the raven.”

“She will. - he pauses – I promised her she'd see Theon. She'll come.”

“And then you'll give him up to the islands? And marry the sister? - Jon scoffs – I hope for your sake they look alike.”

“What do you mean?”, Robb turns, annoyed.

Jon hides his face in the pint.

“What – do – you – mean – Jon?”

“Nothing. - he stares at his brother with a sense of guilt painted on his face – Just that you are fond of him, it's gonna be hard for you to let him go.”

“It won't. I always knew it had to happen.”

“Girls adore you, Robb. - he says, not without a hint of envy – If you want to forget, you can with them.”

“I don't need to forget Theon. We will be friends, like father and Robert Baratheon, through the country, and...”

“...and your children shall wed? - now Jon tries not to seem grave, but his face is dark and solemn – And would you bear to see those kids, Robert? You barely look at the miller's, when they run around, or at the cook's, because you never know. You fear children. - he pauses – And would you bear to see him, once in every ten years, and not recognize him as old age takes away his hair and softens his strong arms? Would you bear to lose him slowly and all at once as you find each other again?”

Robb throws the glass on the table and tries to contain a low roar, “If someone’s manhood should be doubted here, it's not mine.”

Jon shakes his head; as Robb seems about to leave the room, he raises his face again and mumbles, half in the glass, “Ask him to stay. To be your advisor here, give him a title, a castle some miles away. You'll both be happier when you stop pretending to be what you're not.”

Robb bites his tongue, before hissing.

“Stop pretending to be a lord, then.”

The words burn like beacons in his mouth, but he lets them out anyway. 

Jon swallows, “Soon I will.”

 

*

 

“ _Your father keeps speaking about us making a travel to the Neck. - Theon mumbles, bored, eating some crunchy red fruit – But he said not the reason.”_

“ _A deal. - my whispers comes out more strangled than I'd want it to – And I want you by my side.”_

“ _He lets you take them alone.”_

“ _Just this one. It's his decision still, but I have to... see if I can.”_

_Theon frowns, “You like to play mysterious. Maybe I should ask Sansa.”_

“ _Sansa is coming?”_

_That's bad._

“ _When your father announced it to me, your mother said she'd love to make a visit to her sister and brother and that she'd take Sansa with her, to show her the Riverlands. They will be with us as we go.”_

_He must have told her and now she wants to see the Greyjoy girl. Father was right, we couldn't count on her enthusiasm with this deal._

_She looks at Theon with suspicion still._

_And she doesn't even know... oh, if she knew..._

_His lips are so soft._

_Theon sighs, “So... am I the only one not to know the reason of this sudden trip?”_

_Robb looks away, into the dark night outside the window._

_Jon's words return to his head._

“ _Theon... would you stay here?”_

“ _Well, I don't need the journey. But I'd get a bit bored without you around.”_

“ _I didn't mean that.”_

_He takes a long pause, then chuckles, “Then what?”_

_Truth tingles, sharp, on my mouth._

“ _If I become lord of Winterfell, I'll need advisors, men always with me, whom I trust.”_

_Theon scoffs, pretends to take it like a joke, but stands up, annoyed, “I- I'm the heir of the Iron Islands...”_

“ _You are also smart! - I didn't mean to shout but that's all I can do – More than most men, you are a better strategist than many of my father's bannersmen and you are the only person whom I'd...”_

“ _But... I'm the heir. - he breathes heavily – I need to... go home... and they-they need me.”_

“ _What about Asha? She can do that. And you can stay here.”_

_I walk to him, pass my hands in his hair and he turns his head, stubborn like a mountain goat._

“ _I am their prince!”_

“ _So you won't? You won't? In any case? No matter the title I'd give you? The castle?”_

“ _I can't be a Stark, this... this is not my place. The sea, my throne is, that is my destiny.”_

“ _You would have taken Sansa with you. - it drops from my mouth, wet as tears and hard as rocks – You would have taken Sansa, is she not a Stark?”_

“ _It's different, Robb. - he smirks – You know that much, she's a woman...”_

_And his words are a sharp blade. It cuts through my guts and leaves me open._

_As a trout about to be eaten._

_I'm no wolf. I'm no predator._

_I'm a fish, struggling for water, and getting thrown on the sand._

_I pull Theon's face against mine, force his mouth open and push my tongue through. He tries to resist, but I won't let him go. I push him against the wall and keep him still, put my hands at the two sides of his face and sink my tongue deeper._

_He gives up quite soon, starts to reply, but I won't- I won't let him lead this time._

_I... I'm stronger than him now._

_Since when? I'm not sure. Doesn't matter._

_Theon's breath in me, against my mouth, brings me deeper into him. His hips move, rubbing against mine. He lolls his eyes to the ceiling when I answer the rub thrusting slightly against his tight leather trousers._

_Family, duty, honor – if family comes first, then, is it worth throwing the other two away for?_

_But I can't. I have to keep them all._

_If I were born a girl, like Sansa, would have they let me marry him? Would have Theon asked, while with Sansa and Arya he just silently hoped? To Theon would have I been different than other women in his bed? Would, could I have asked?_

_Could have I begged father, crying, saying I'd go to the Iron Islands, even risking my head cut on a dish, for him, just for him?_

_Would have Theon made love to me?_

_As I move away, letting Theon rest, I see his look turn sad. He bites his inner cheek._

“ _You can't think that this... that this could go on.”_

“ _I want you. - I'm still keeping him against the wall, pinning, I move away despite knowing he will then run away soon – I need you.”_

“ _I can't give up my birth right for being your woman, Stark.”_

“ _Then I'll be yours. - my heart crumbles down my throat and face in fat tears – I don't care. I don't care. I don't want a day without you.”_

“ _But you wouldn't give up your right, would you? - he scoffs – You wouldn't ask your father to give Winterfell to Bran to become my advisor, my... how did you call it? Trusted man? - his eyes are full of shattered light – You wouldn't, no matter the castle or the title.”_

“ _It's different!”_

“ _Yes... only Greyjoys can be hostages, can’t they?”_

“ _You are a brother to me, Theon!”_

_He raises an eyebrow, “Do you wish to shag Jon, Robb?”_

_Disgust burns my veins._

“ _What?”_

“ _Then don't call me brother. - his eyes turn cold, the light broken on the waves of his watery pupils disappears and turns to hard ice – Call me your whore.”_

“ _I wish you were! At least, I could touch you for real, instead of rubbing myself on the sheets to your thought for two years.”_

_He seems to soften. His eyes get big, his shoulder mellow._

_Then, then Pride. Again. Sly, dark pride._

_He laughs, mockingly, “That's quite pathetic. You really need a wench.”_

_I clench my fists strong enough to feel my flesh open and bleed against my own nails._

“ _I'll marry your sister.”_

“ _What?”_

“ _That's what the travel is for. - I can't look at him, I know his wounds bleed worse than mine – It's a wedding arrangement.”_

“ _But... the Manderly girl...”_

“ _I have two brothers. - I try to swallow but the spit gets stuck and my voice crumples up – It won't be a problem, will it?”_

_Theon leaves before I raise my head._

 

*

 

Sansa plays the harp in the big hall. Her lean tapering fingers gently tickle the chords as a loverboy interlaces his with the hair of his betrothed lady. She sings with her delicate voice of snow about ladies dancing with bears, with a big smile on her lips, because she won't have to marry any bear, though.

When her father rejected the offer of Robert Baratheon, she was temporarily very heartbroken, until the kind king, who bared no grunge against them, laughed it off, and instead suggested to make Sansa marry one of the brothers of Margaery Tyrell, soon to marry his son Joffrey.

And when she heard about the two unmarried brothers, one kind and wise and one a knight like in the songs, she accepted quietly the situation with a young heart full of hope.

A kind husband, she hopes, who will protect her and dance with her. Yes, that's all she wants.

Lady licks her hand, making her laugh.

Theon smirks too and moves away from the column he has been leaning on, speaking with Robb and Hallis Mollen about his latest conquers, all smug and proud. When he comes close to Sansa, though, his face loosens up and he smiles kindly. He compliments her on her playing and Sansa smiles at him too.

She tells him about the Tyrell wedding and Theon laughs, admitting a certain jealousy, because in all the North he'll never find a girl as pretty, he will have to resort to Jeyne Poole. Sansa seems a bit offended, despite the two of them being friends, and then her cheeks become flushed in a sweet coral, as Theon stares at her.

Like she just realized he is a boy, after all.

Robb looks at them with a livid pain growing in his stomach, burning him.

They look so pretty...

The cuts on the palm of his hand open again.

 

*

 

“You are not marrying one of our sweet children to a Greyjoy. - Catelyn states, not even bothering to make it sound like anything less than an order – Let alone two.”

“I know. I have no intention to.”

Cat comes closer to him on the bed, turns a bit, suspicious.

“So?”

“Sansa will go to the Tyrell boy, I can't refuse the second name Robert suggested me and you like this idea. - he rolls his eyes – And Robb, god, a Greyjoy would just move him as they want.”

“Our boy is not stupid, Ned.”

“No, he isn't. But he is sweet, soft. Look how he made friends with the Greyjoy boy and how many times did we try to forbid it when they were kids?”

“Oh, Gods, how to forget...”

“He is friendly. - he coughs – And tender. If he marries her, to her he will be nice, accommodating and kind. No, no. He'll marry a Manderly. It's a good, solid family.”

Cat sighs, “And then?”

“I am confident, if they go and meet, he won't like her nor will she like him, he'll give up the idea of the wedding and, perhaps, he will also manage, being friends with Theon, to gain some of her loyalty too. What he said is right: that boy wouldn't last long on the Iron Islands. She will.”

His wife seems very proud of him.

“Politically savvy. I'm impressed.”

“I may not be... very... good at grasping the Southern politics, but with the North I know enough...”

She kisses his cheek, sweetly.

“Ouff, I can't wait for that boy to go away. He makes me so uncomfortable...”

“Why?”

“The way Robb looks at him, like he admires him... - she shakes her head – My poor boy with such a terrible influence.”

Eddard doesn't comment. After all, what he'd say could only make things worse.

 

*

_I try to touch his hand at dinner, but he moves it away._

_Smoothly, so nobody notices. Quickly, so my heart dies in a second._

_He denies me any look or smile that could be more than what a friend would give – after dinner, he goes out to meet some woman, like those he likes, above his age, with huge boobs and pretty good mouths. “I give back the favor, so there's no harm in asking”, he said often._

_And, oh, he stays out the whole night – returning when the dawn is close to come, with a wintery pale pink sky. I can see him from the window, unable to sleep._

_When I close my eyes, I see him anyway._

_He is always under my skin, inconveniently, uncomfortably, unavoidably._

_And to the core I depend on him, who would feast on my heart, who subdues me and yet is disinterested in this power._

_If I could carve myself into him, from the mouth entering his soul, sit in his ribcage – would then I feel him for real close?_

_Or would he still be too distant for me to touch?_

 

*

 

He stares at his fair hair, as it falls softly on his shoulders, framing his face. The proud cheekbones look sharper and his dark eyes deeper after the sleepless night. He stares, annoyed, at the servants preparing the last horses. He pets his own, as to grant it they'll leave soon, calming it.

Robb makes sure both his mother and sister are comfortable.

The air got colder in the last years, the trees leafless. It's chilly also in full daylight and he can't avoid worrying. He caresses Sansa's white cheeks, reddened slightly by the cold, as she smiles she doesn't look her age to him, but like the small child rolling in the fresh flowers.

Her look, though, matured. Her eyes soon glance at Theon on Smiler and the flush on her cheeks gets darker. He recognizes his naivety in hers.

Robb can feel his stomach clench.

He moves towards Theon with the horses, but doesn't dare to speak to him, until Theon gives him a grin.

“What's that long face for, hm? You're going to meet your bride.”

“Don't mock me. - he sighs – I know you hope it won't happen.”

“I'm hoping so for your balls. If you marry Asha, she'll keep you on the leash by those.”

Theon raises an eyebrow, allusive, and Robb sighs deeper.

“I'm sorry for what I asked you last time. - he swallows – It was unfair of me to expect you to give up your right for me... nobody could ask anyone to put a friend, for how close, before family.”

Theon looks at him, moved, but hides it well, behind a confident smirk, “I know it's hard to give up on me...”

Robb laughs.

Theon rides his horse closer to him and speaks lowly, “I wronged you too...”

“You didn't...”

“Robb. - he looks pained – You...”

And Robb lowers his eyes. He knows what Theon has to say: Robb, you grew chest hair, Robb, you have a strong chest, Robb, you are a man, unmistakably a man. And he would have accepted that all, if Theon never kissed him, if he just looked at maidens.

But Theon looks at him.

He knows.

He can feel his glances, scorching as pure fire, on his back when they train or wash. He can feel his hands trying to go deeper and lower.

But he stops... he stops every time.

Robb has come to realize: he is desired, he is wanted, but Theon is terrified of wanting him, of wanting a man.

He, whose eyes make his blood boil and his sweat rise, whose touch brings him to life and awakes him at night, whose absence throws him in pain and haunted strive, he can't admit to be looking at him in that way.

But Robb can't stop his awareness.

He is not good at lying to himself.

He, even just for one night, he needs that touch.

He needs that fire to consume him. Maybe, just maybe burn him enough for him to never feel anything again.

 

*

 

The nights are unexpectedly warm going south. The crickets sing and fill the thick blue velvet of the sky. His mother and Sansa fell asleep in their tent many hours before, after a quick light supper; the guards were sitting around the fire, checking if in the obscurity something would have come out. But the wood was still and still was the night.

Theon opens Robb's tent entrance, quickly, smoothly. Robb turns. He finds his lips on his own already.

His lips quiver against Theon's firm, sure, ones. He pushes his tongue in and Robb sucks it, moving his head to welcome it.

Theon puts his hands on the robe Robb was taking off and seems to give him a hand, caressing it and then under it, slowly. The candlelight burns gently and paints their skin in the color of the sunset.

Theon pushes Robb's head close to his own, pulling his auburn locks – the ginger set on fire by the delicious light.

Robb tries to keep to himself, not to scare him away, but the immobility burns him. It torments him.

“Touch me too.”, Theon whispers, allowing him and himself.

And Robb smiles into the kiss and rips the gold necklace keeping together the fur on Theon's shoulders, then moves to the armor and rusts through it, searching for the undershirt like a hungry wolf. Theon stays a little speechless, trembling, staring, enchanted by Robb's parted panting mouth.

He passes a tongue on his own, thinking about it.

He smirks and sinks his teeth in Robb's neck, making him growl, musky, and he drinks that grunt with delice.

He grabs Robb's face with his hand, pressing on his cheek, while Robb doesn't stop moving through his clothes, opening them.

Theon can feel the little beard under his fingertips, he fights himself to not run.

Robb swallows, “I... I don't know how-”

Theon shakes ever so slightly.

Robb's hand moves on Theon's cock as he starts touching it, slowly, staring at Theon's face for a reaction. Theon is speechless, his jaw drops a bit, while Robb's hand feels at the same time like heaven and hell, like pure bliss and a fear came true. His tongue rolls out of his mouth when Robb starts jerking him faster.

Robb tries not to show his satisfaction yet, he bites his bottom lip and moves faster, clenching slightly at the base, making Theon twitch and move against his hand, thrusting with his hips.

He can see his knees bending slightly.

Robb comes closer, enough for Theon to rest his head on him, leaning slightly, and suffocates his moans into Robb's shoulders, while his cock was getting bigger and harder against the other's hand.

The more Theon bites him the more a weird desire rises in Robb's loins.

He wants to make Theon weak in the bones, melted in the spine, a whining moaning puddle of pleasure. He wants to feel his heat melting around his cock.

He can't say that, he can't admit it or Theon would run.

But he can't stop imagining it all and his cock hardens in his pants, barely constricted, while Theon comes closer and closer to reaching his climax.

Theon starts moving against him, rubbing their shafts one against the other.

Robb's mouth is agape, trembling, and Theon caresses his lips, staring into his eyes as he moves. He rubs their whole length, then lingers when their heads touch, accelerates and presses more. His eyes roll to the ceiling as pleasure crosses his face, covering it all.

Robb grabs Theon's hip with one hand and their erections with another, moving harsher. He keeps them pressed together, rubs with his thumb the tips, squishes Theon's side more, enjoying every little drop of his uncomposed, aroused reactions. The way he writhes under the touches, losing words, his voice getting wetter and higher.

Robb is close to bursting when Theon, closing his eyes completely, raises his head to the ceiling and lets it sway slightly behind.

He can't help but to imagine fucking him.

He rubs the tips faster and faster, taking delight and bliss in Theon's accelerated breath. As he comes against Robb's stomach, Robb does too, with a couple of quicker jerks. 

And they fall leaning on each other's shoulder, like two trees bent from the rain.

Pleasure still crawls on their skins, afterglow burning in their loins, and they don't dare look at each other in the eye.

That night Theon doesn't leave the tent until dawn.

 

*

 

Robb wakes up the day after full of a weird, calm frenzy. Happiness, he supposes.

Not that he was ever a sad child, but between a good mood and happiness... oh, there was the whole universe in the middle.

He almost dances, walking through the tents with a big smile, giving a good morning to his mother and sister with joy glowing on his face.

Catelyn gives him a suspicious look, “You look truly rested today.”

“I slept with serenity, mother.”

“I'd be so nervous in your place. - Sansa admits, innocently – You'll soon meet your future bride, if all goes right. Don't you want to impress her?”

“If she is like the brother, I'm confident Robb will not have problems in being liked.”, she says, in the less irritated voice she can afford.

“Oh, right, Theon! - Sansa seems to light up – Is he ready? Should I go to tell him breakfast will be soon?”

“I'm sure he knows, darling...”

Robb hesitates, seeing Sansa so captive of Theon's charm.

He can't blame her, of course, but still can't want but to stop her and let her desist.

“We can go to tell him together, if you want.”, Robb allows.

Sansa springs out of the tent in small, graceful, yet very quick jumps. Robb looks at her with a tender pity.

“I hope this crush will be washed away from her heart soon.”

Catelyn's eyes linger on her son's face, “I hope so too...”

 

*

 

The Castles in the region are the color of wet sand in the cold mornings, the colorful banners seem to shine even louder. There is no mercy in the soft earth, filled and holed by the constant rain and hail of the last days. The horses neigh distressed, as their manes fill in rain, sometimes even in mud as they cross the river. Saltspear raises next to them, with its huge void, the cliff welcoming capricious angry waves crashing against its surface.

Robb holds the reins, Theon is before them, leading the guards in Hallis' stead, as he remained in Winterfell. Robb shivers, holding his fur coat closer.

It's warmer, but the constant rain wetted his clothes and his bones hurt. His stomach keeps burning.

He reaches for Theon.

“We are almost there...”

Theon smirks, “We should arrive soon. - he chuckles – For how useful it may be.”

“What do you mean?”

Theon turns with Smiler, “Well... you're not gonna marry Asha anymore, right?”

“Why would I change my... - he realizes, becomes pale – Theon, it was not just that.”

“Then what?”

“Lower your voice.”

Theon goes down from the horse, stopping everyone behind them. He stares at Robb, until the other follows his example, with a gesture, he asks them to wait and they move a bit further, pretending to check the stability of the ground.

“So? - Theon whispers, while kicking some earth near the cliffs – What was it about?”  
“It is Maester Luwin's fear that perhaps when you will move again to the Ironborns, they will consider you a Stark puppet.”

“What? Is this what you think of me?”

“No. - Robb promises, looking at him in the eye – No, I don't. But think about it, historically, how many kings that spent years away got welcomed back without suspicion or doubt of their value? - when he sees Theon is not protesting, he goes on – If I marry Asha, it will be like signing an alliance, they will have a step in Winterfell...”

“Why not giving me a Stark sister then? Hm? - he provokes him, his eyes red in flames – Sansa doesn't seem to mind me.”

“Sansa finds you pretty. - he swallows – Maybe even handsome. But you are unfaithful by nature. And she will be promised to the Tyrell boy, the future queen's brother.”

Theon laughs, bitterly, “Or maybe you are all substituting one prisoner with another, aren't you? You can't keep me forever, so now you plan to take my sister after me, just to make sure we never attack.”

“Asha's fame wouldn't make us see that as a realistic possibility.”

“Isn't a wife always a prisoner? Aren't women always so?”

“What are you speaking about? - Robb frowns – Look at my mother: does she look like a prisoner to you?”

“Yes. - he grins, metallic – She is forced to accept whatever your father chooses, including refusing her children a good match or accepting his bastard at her table, Sansa and Arya will be the same. All women are just trading cards, weak to their destiny and unable to move.”

Robb tries to swallow the bitter words Theon fed him, trying to find calmness.

“You are not a woman, though, Theon, you will be free...”

“Don't you want to make me a woman, though? - he chuckles, suggestive – Your woman?”

Robb turns, making sure nobody is hearing them. His voice turns heavy like stones falling in the sea from the crumbling cliff.

“I want you with me. It'd be easier if one of us were to be a maiden, I can't deny that. - a thin little smile – Maybe, if you are right, we'd both be prisoners... but it's not like I'm actually free, Theon, because... being close to you, to a man, is as forbidden as to you disobeying my father's orders. - he swallows – I want you to lay with me, but that doesn't mean I see you as inferior.”

Theon looks at him, and yet, his glance pierces through his flesh as if he crossed it and went away from both.

“Maybe I should bed your sister. Maybe then you'll get it.”

Robb clench his fist and shout, “Don't you even think about it.”

“Why? - Theon's grin grows wider – She'd love to, I can be very attentive and caring. - he raises his eyebrows – Would you fancy watching? I bet you'd look exactly like her, were you a maid... - his eyes linger on Robb's shoulders – Except your hair would be wavy... I'd like them more.”

Robb's breath becomes irregular and frantic and he clenches Theon's wrist, “Don't touch Sansa.”

“Whom for? Her safety or yours?”

Robb lets Theon's wrist escape his grip.

His face turns harder, colder.

“My father would have never given her to you. You must be truly deluded to have thought something like that. - his voice echoes in both their ribcages and makes them mute and deserted – Let's proceed now.”

 

*

 

_I can barely remember arriving._

_Two days ago it was, and yet I still feel like I am travelling under the showers of this capricious sky._

_The Flints were welcoming, quiet, they welcomed us and left us and our “soon to be arrived guests” the east wing of their castle. Which is more than enough._

_I imagined the Ironborn would have arrived ahead of us, but probably they'd figured it would have annoyed us not to and therefore did what was funnier to them._

_Mother is often out in the woods, taking brief walks, enjoying what to her feels a bit like a childhood memory, albeit still colder than the Riverlands. Sansa plays bells and the harp every time she can, she chats amiably with their hosts. Theon... Theon is not speaking to me._

_We have two communication rooms, a kindness I had asked, explaining we had to discuss the possible results of the affair to be decided; but Theon never comes to them nor speaks to me in general._

_He is dressing in black and dark blue, to match his ill mood._

_Sansa seems to not have eyes for anyone else, she runs to him and speaks to him, excitedly quiet like a proper lady, but still with happiness making her cheeks bloom in the color of roses._

_I fear what could happen._

_I have no doubt that Theon wouldn't really hurt her. He wouldn't bed her, I think. She is also too young for his taste._

_But he does lead her a bit, he takes a pleasure in seeing her blush and rise and hide._

_He does play with her a gentle bit and she does wear her heart exposed on the silky sleeves of her gown._

_Would we really look alike if...?_

_Is this why Theon is playing with her? Is it a cruel game, hurting him and Sansa and himself too, in which he pretends her to be him?_

… _I can't sleep like this._

 

*

 

The corridors are high and cold, filled with the pale moonlight creeping between the tall, dark stones. Some of the windows bear colored glass and they stain the stones in red and a vivid blue.

His steps echo in the empty space. The wind passing through the glass makes him hold tighter his fur.

He shouldn't be cold. They are not as far up north anymore.

And yet...

A weird pain, like a shard of ice, rested near his pierced chest.

He arrives in the deserted dining hall and prepares to cross it without a second glance, when his nose smells hot broth. And meat, red, cooked with wine and lard. 

He looks around and sees a boot on the wooden table.

“Care to join me?”

Robb stiffens, walking closer. At first, when he sees the dirty boots, then the trousers, half-wet and stinking of a balsamic salty scent, he feels weirdly charmed.

“Well, well, I had heard of redheads but didn't think I'd see one upon just arriving.”

He blinks, astounded.

“The...- he stops, no, it can't be him, it's a woman, very clearly from her chest - … who?”

She cackles loudly. A sneering look hits him right after the guffaw.

Her hair is short, all ruffled, her eyes shine with fire and she looks like blood could boil in her veins. 

She looks like Theon, but she is not like him at all.

Her pointy nose, sharp cheekbones, the blueish black of her hair, though...

“Asha Greyjoy. - she winks – And I'm supposing you are the wolf pup.”

He swallows, sitting. She is quite different from what he had imagined.

Sure, he knew she was a pirate, that Greyjoys were like that, but- he realizes he did hope for her to look like Theon, to be like him.

He suddenly tastes guilt.

“Robb Stark... you’ve arrived now?”

“I arrived hours ago, I just didn't feel like being where my crew can't be. I had to fight to get them decent rooms.”

“In this castle?”

“No, in the barn with the pigs. - ah, sarcasm apparently ran in the family, of all things... - Is my brother here?”

“Yes. He is in his room.”

“Is he still a meek, stick thin crybaby?”, she asks.

She sounds brutal, but Robb recognizes an intense worry behind her words.

“I would not define him shy. - he admits, in a small laugh – He is quite fond of ladies and ladies are fond of him. But he is mellow, just, not for everyone to see.”

Asha smiles but hides it quickly, “Not sure my people would appreciate that.”

“He is also a good strategist, he...”

“Now, that surely they wouldn't. - she snickers, biting into her meat ungracefully – My father is not enthusiastic at the idea of a Stark puppet on his throne, you might understand this.”

“Theon has his own mind.”

“Theon needs people to love him and this, wolf pup, is a road that leads to people drowning you or cutting your guts open.”

“You don't want him back?”

“Of course I do. - her voice softened, honeyed wine sauce fell from her lips and she cleaned it with the back of the hand – But, listen well, I'm not going to leave the throne. Give Theon back, I'll inherit the throne and protect him.”

“He's not going to accept. - Robb comments, sighing – Not for a woman to take his birthright.”

“He has no choice, they won't want him.”

Robb lowers his head, “How can I tell him something like this?”

“Do you see another solution? - Asha scorns – When my father dies, I'll inherit the throne. He will be still in Winterfell and won't be able to claim it.”

“He'll be humiliated.”

“He'll be alive.”

“He'll be hurt.”

Asha blinks, slowly, staring at Robb's upset expression, at how tormented he looks at the idea of her little brother being denied something, not out of political worry, but due to what it would mean for the heart of that shy kid.

“Oh. - she pauses, smirks – So that's how it is.”

Robb's face flushes the color of his hair and he stands up.

“How what is?”

“Sssh. - she seems pleased – Don't get all wrathful. I don't like barking dogs.”

“I ask you to tell me immediately what you meant.”

“Are you sure you want me to?”, she provokes, staring into his eyes.

Robb bites his inner cheek.

“I don't appreciate the allusiveness.”

“If you prefer I can be more explicit. - she pauses – Does Theon know?”

Robb can't answer, he lowers his look automatically. His jaw clacks.

Asha raises an eyebrow, “That sure is quite unusual. - she stares at Robb's embarrassed face and his curls hiding his eyes – You care about him that much, then.”

“He is my brother. Now and always.”

Asha smiles into her cup of beer, “That sure sounds like a nuptial vow...”

Robb's cheeks start to look livid as he sits again and sighs profoundly.

“You are quite hard to crack, aren't you?”

“Men seem to think so. - she chuckles, handing him her alcohol – I like you, pup, but don't give me orders, I don't like them.”

Robb looks at her with a weird fascination. She is charming, in a way.

“I offered Theon to remain in Winterfell and renounce his heirloom, but he refused... I don't blame him, mind you, but... I need him and have no choice. He won't give up Pyke.”

She nods, “We are stubborn.”

“I had occasions to notice.”

“I'll speak to him, tell him clear that he won't have the throne, just a house, a good ship. Maybe he'll see there is not much hope there for him...”

“Not even with a Stark marriage?”

“Not sure you two could manage that.”

“I have two sisters. And he has one.”

She smirks, “I wouldn't mind one of your sisters, pup, but I'm not sure that's what you are offering.”

“He'll marry Arya and you will marry me. Both heirs of Balon's loins joint to the Starks, you will be the lady of Winterfell, the most powerful woman of the North and...”

“...and stuck far away from the sea? - she looks smoldering, wrathful, but hides it in a mocking sneer – That's not going to happen: not the wedding, not in Winterfell.”

“Then what?”

“Give us independence, if we pick Theon as ruler. That might make the men change their mind.”

“I can't promise you that! My father fought against the rebellion.”

“My brothers too. I had three, now one. Want to do some math?”

Robb swallows, “My father won't agree...”

“If you’ve raised Theon to be a faithful, loyal thing, he won't rebel against you. You'll have us as allies. We'd be way more frightful and more useful than we are as subjects.”

“You surely are an impudent woman.”

“Being brazen is a good trait where I come from.”

Robb looks on the table, “I'll think about it, but the decision is in my father’s hands...”

“Of course. As it is in mine's.”

Robb swallows, burdened. His hands burnt with the sensation of dust and sand running in the wind escaping them.

“Rest tonight... tomorrow you'll meet your brother again. He has missed you.”

Asha smiles when a tender memory crosses her mind.

Robb's soft and yet strong voice, his bold yet calm ways, the way he cared for that weak sweet brother of hers; it reminded her of a more merciful time.

 

*

 

Theon arrives in the room in the early morning.

The table is filled with every delicacy from warm eggs and meat to sweet cheese and fruit; Sansa is courteously assaulting a tray with small cinnamon cakes and blueberry pies, while Robb filled his mouth with some eggs and chugged down milk with them. He can't see Catelyn around.

“Is it that late that your lady mother is already walking the gardens?”

“She finds them calming.”, Robb replies.

He is also skeptical of his mother's lack of interest for food, it happens often when she is worried and stressful events catch her backbones.

Sansa smiles, “Your sister should join us soon! Robb met her yesterday night!”

“You made sure to play the field.”, Theon comments, sourly smug.

Robb looks at him pained. Sansa notices.

“Not in my rooms, she had dinner and I was unable to rest properly.”

“What a good lord, coming to keep company to lonely maids...”

They turn, as she enters the room, with a tray of fish cooked into the color of charcoal in her hands. She has a nicely full figure, long legs and an impressive cleavage. It distracts Theon from her big nose and her face in general.

“How thoughtful of the Flints! They sent us a wench. - he laughs – But they should have sent you yesterday night. We have ladies at the table.”

“How could have I not noticed?”, she comments, in a smirk, bending and kissing Sansa's hand.

Sansa turns the color of her hair, while Theon sends an excited glare at a horrified Robb.

“Well, I'm afraid I'll leave you to the breakfast. - Theon grins, standing up – I just found something more interesting to do.”

The woman blinks, but keeps smiling as Theon's hand lands on her ass and gropes it.

Robb would like to speak but he feels his throat sewn up.

It's only when his hands reach her boobs too that she turns to Robb and chuckles, “You are right, he is not shy anymore.”

Theon frowns, “...did you two spea... – he goes pale and turns to Robb – And you didn't warn me?”

Asha laughs amused and pinches Theon's cheek.

“Oh, baby brother, I have to say you're truly grown up. - she lands a hand on his groin – We should make sure how much.”

Theon backs away in a jump.

“How... when... you don't even look like Asha.”, he says, his eyes returning to her chest.

“I'm sure you know these tendentially develop with time.”

Theon almost chokes, “Robb! How could you not tell me!”

“You have the same face, for gods' sake!”

“My nose doesn't look like that. - he swallows and tries to calm himself down, then coughs and asks, – Sansa, you, you should admit I don't look like that at all.”

“...well. - she lowers her eyes as Asha winks to her – You both are... very charming.”

“I could say the same. - Asha comments, sitting next to the girl, then staring at Robb – Is this the poor girl you wanted to throw to my brother? But would he know what to do with her? She deserves some more care...”

“I would know what to do, I'll let you know that I...”

“Theon, you're not making it better. - Robb sighs – I'm sorry, Asha, it's not our custom to give maidens to other maidens.”

“I'm not a maiden.”

“Not to add, - he overlooks her – Sansa is already promised to a Tyrell.”

“That is truly heartbreaking.”

Theon rolls his eyes to the ceiling, then glares at Robb.

“At least, now I know you two didn't engage in fun times yesterday.”

“Oh. - Asha smirks – Did I give you the impression I wouldn't be interested? The pup is a handsome boy after all, a bit young for my taste.”

Sansa coughs, “So, umh, you two are contemplating a marriage?”

“A deal, rather, I do not fancy chains of any kind.”

Robb looks at her again, “We will find a good deal, advantageous for everyone.”

Sansa's eyes seem to slip to Asha's chest too and then to Theon's face, recalling how he looked at it before he knew it belonged to his sister. Their faces, after all, were pretty similar. Her and Robb heard often they looked alike, but not as much, at least in her opinion.

Something gives her a warm feeling in her stomach, then her lower belly.

 

*

 

“ _You should have told me... - Theon complains – I almost fucked my sister.”_

“ _Theon, I think she would have stopped you, at a certain point.”_

“ _She is nuts. You saw it, she drank too much seawater and grew weeds in her brain.”_

_A deep laugh. I shake my head._

“ _And I thought you were the crazy one.”_

_Theon sulks and hugs me from the back, kissing my neck softly, weirdly tender._

“ _I miss that night in the tent...”_

_My eyes drop to the floor, as if something heavy draws them there, “So you remember that...”_

“ _Of course I do...”_

“ _You’ve been ignoring me since we arrived.”_

_Theon smirks against my neck, chuckles and I can feel him getting harder against me, “Did I offend you, my lord?”_

_I suffocate a breath, muting myself. It's hard and big and I can feel Theon's desire scorching me whole._

“ _Don't call me like that...”_

“ _I could kiss my lord in many places to make up for my offence.”_

_Theon's hands travel on my hips, trace a line and I turn._

“ _I-”_

“ _Yes?”_

_His eyes look like dark water ready to swallow me up._

_I'm going to drown._

“ _I want to enter you.”_

_Theon seems caught back, he smiles in surprise, sharply, then shakes his head and raises an eyebrow, “What?”_

_I swallow and feel my throat closing._

“ _I'll let you do the same. I know you want to. - my hands court his shoulders, and he tries to move away but then stays – Can't we both do it?”_

“ _That's not how it works... one... one ends up being the woman and that's not me.”_

“ _None of us is a girl, I'm confident. - a laugh rolls out of my mouth – I think we are both most definitely men. And I like it that way.”_

“ _Then why?”_

“ _I want to melt in you. I want to mark you.”_

“ _Mark me? - he raises an eyebrow – Like cattle?”_

“ _Like one who keeps going around. You fuck every female you find, and I feel like my skin is rotting around my bones. When I see you... when you touch them, kiss them, I... I need you to know that I... I have a part of you they can't have.”_

“ _You want to own me...”_

“ _Yes! - it ends up sounding like a roar, and his eyes widen – Yes, I do. I want you mine. Not like a prisoner, like... like I am yours.”_

_My hands clench and close on his chest, he takes them in his own and bends for a kiss._

_I push into him deeper and he holds my face close._

_My lips quiver in the kiss and I have to separate. Theon looks at me, doubtful, surprised._

“ _I won't be able to let you go...”_

_And I wish not to sob. But can't stop it._

_He holds my hands and doesn't say anything._

_My older lover is much more scared than I am to love for real, despite, I think, how deeply he already loves me in his own way._

 

*

 

“So... - Asha looks at him , sipping from a big pint – The deal for now is to let you return as Balon dies.”

“So I won't see my father again.”

She glares at him, not sure of how to tell him it'd be better that way.

Theon sighs.

“That boy... Robb Stark... he cares for you.”

Theon glances at her, “I can't ask him to send me home before.”

“That's not what I meant. - she pauses – He... he would be a good reason to stay, if you wanted to.”

“So the throne would be all yours?”, he sneers.

“Do you really think you are that cut out to lead, Theon? And to lead the Ironborns of all peoples?”

“You clearly don't.”

Asha looks at him, pained, “Our mother still thinks you are nine... and I... I can't stop myself from thinking the same.”

“How dare you?”

She slams her fist on the table, “I'm trying to make you see some reason, dickhead!”

“You just want to use Robb to keep me far away from my claim.”

“That claim is not yours to start with. - she shouts – And would it be so bad for me to wish you'd be with someone appreciating of you? You think our father would be kinder to you than that boy? Then you don't remember very well nor him nor uncle Euron.”

Theon seems to stop and feel sick. He stares into the void for some moments.

Asha bites her own tongue, regretting speaking.

“I'm not weak...”

“I know. - she looks at him – But you are not the right kind of strong to survive Pyke or father.”

Theon clenches his fists, “So what should I do? Hm? Be substituted by a woman?”

Asha feels anger troubling her and spits, “You can substitute one in other ways.”

Theon clenches his teeth and slams her on the table, hand on her throat. He presses strong enough for Asha to rattle under him, she tries to kick him some times, but he avoids that quite easily and grabs her ankle with the other hand, opening her legs. 

“Take it back.”, he roars, face at few centimeters from hers, eyes on fire.

“Why? - she raises an eyebrow, her voice comes out in a strangled whisper – Don't tell me you don't fancy his cock up your tight ass. Your cheeks are smaller than mine.”

He presses harder and Asha mutes, her eyes widened and her mouth panting in distress.

Theon puts his weight over her, pushing her more on the table. He bites his lips and feels his pants pull and get harder against her crotch that smells still like the salty cold ocean.

She smirks, “Oh, you'd get hard at showing me my place. - almost a laugh – You really have the potential to be like our family then.”

He moves away as if she scorched him and stares at his hands, in horror of himself.

Her hair is more ruffled and when he looks at her, at her now bleeding lips, he finally sees the resemblance.

He pants and stares at the ground, she holds his wrist and pulls him closer.

“You can put a seed of your loins in every woman you meet, Theon, and at end of the day you'll still be thinking about him.”

“I'm not going to let him-”

“-take control of you?”

“Call it as you please.”

“Do you really think that just because you'd get off to his shaft that would make you the one without power? - she laughs a bit – Oh, god, you really are a child...”

“You are disturbing. - he mumbles, moving away – Witch.”

She chuckles and sighs, then yells, smiling, “I'm not the one trying to fuck my sister twice in a day!”

“Shut up!”

 

*

 

Sansa claps, enthusiastically.

Theon is showing off his archery skills, hitting mostly trees and other inanimate objects, because he knows hitting birds, rabbits or deer would make her weep. She looks like her face is glowing in happiness and he smiles at her.

He can't help but wonder if Robb would have looked at him the same, if he had been a girl, growing up unaware of battle and training.

She blushes slightly as she stares at him and lowers her face.

She still believes in fairytales, in songs and sweet things. And Theon can't help but feel they are very similar in a way.

Two silly people hanging by their nails to disappearing songs, while the world called them for reality.

She is wearing a dress the color of wisterias and willow leaves. Her hands trembles, her eyes tremble in a weird shyness.

He lifts her chin, gently, and bends.

He kisses her without urge or haste. Just a peck on her soft lips.

She shakes, as if she got all of a sudden completely drenched in cold water.

She tries to protest but Theon smirks and she closes her eyes again, as he bows in another soft kiss.

 

*

 

“He did what?”

“He... kissed me.”, the words sound heavy and pasty in her mouth.

Robb punches a door and she startles, bewildered.

That was not like him, at all.

“Are you angry at me?”

“No. - he seems to be ready to roar, but instead his voice lowers and softens – No, I'm not, though you should know better, I'm angry at him.”

“Oh, but he... he couldn't help it...”

“He couldn't help it?”

Sansa wonders why her brother is smiling angrily while his eyes look as if he is about to cry.

She frowns, “So he said....”

“He is a grown man. He can help everything. - he cuts her short -Pray that no one has seen this... thing happening. We don't want voices about you and Theon to...”

“Why not? - she bends her head – I, sure Loras Tyrell is very beautiful and kind, but so is Theon. He is funny, makes me laugh, and knows me well. He is your friend, shouldn't you like him? Be happy it's him rather than just any stranger?”

“He shags a new woman every night, I don't want him any close to you.”

“Is really this the problem? - Sansa stands up and stares at him, inquisitive – Or is there something you are not telling me?”

Robb swallows.

He can't let her know.

She'd be so ashamed of him, she'd lose all respect...

He shakes his head, gravely, “I'm very disappointed in how reckless both of you were, Sansa. I'm not going to tell mother about this, but I will if it happens again. Am I clear?”

She trembles.

Her lips shiver, big tears roll down her cheeks.

“Like ice.”, she mumbles, walking away.

Robb leans on the walls, his chest heavy. A clench and a press. He feels like puking.

 

*

 

“So... - she smirks – What do we have here?”

Robb whines, annoyed, and pushes his head more against his elbows on the table, ignoring her.

She looks at the pints, “Drinking yourself to sleep?”

Robb turns to her, “Your brother is a jerk.”

Asha nods, “He is. - she smiles tenderly and sits next to him – What did he do?”

“He kissed Sansa.”

“Hand?”

“Lips.”

“If it makes you feel better, she is the eldest daughter of lord Eddard Stark, even if her flower got pierced she'd still find one to marry her...”, she sips some wine from his glass.

“It's not that. - Robb sighs – I- I don't want him to kiss her just to get back at me.”

“For what?”

“Proposing to his sister.”

She frowns, “Is this your problem? Or that you don't know if it is that?”

Robb seems to shiver, closes his eyes.

“I don't know what would be worse.”

“Look, Theon is not a faithful man, and your sister is a nice delicacy. I would fancy a shag with her too.”

“Was this supposed to help?”

“I'm just saying it's not surprising if he decided that she was worth some time...”

“... you really are his sister, after all.”

Asha laughs, her voice echoes deeply, “Maybe he finds her pretty, maybe he likes her. And, look, he will always like other girls. It's about power, after all. It's about winning and he is so so starved. - she pauses, drinks more, Robb stares at her face – The point is who is the one he returns to.”

Robb swallows.

Asha smirks, “Tonight, scold him a bit and then have a nice, long, fuck. From my experience, if you ask a man anything while he is hard, you can get way bigger stuff than a promise to never touch your sister again.”

“I don't think we can... - he admits, staring at the ground - ...so...”

Asha frowns, “Excuse me?”

Robb gulps, embarrassment riding his expression.

“He tends to... stop. Before.”

“You’ve never fucked?”

“Does rubbing count?”

She squints her eyes, “I suppose it does... but that's it? No finger, tongue, anything?”

“Do you have to be that explicit?”

“I'm trying to help you, pup, meet me halfway.”

“No. - he blurts out – No, we didn't. It's not like I didn't try, but... - he sighs – I think he'd be fine with it if I... you know.”

“Got it up the bottom.”

“...you really can't try to say it nicely?”

She looks at him as if he had asked her the impossible, but as she saw he was serious she tries to change her wording, “...received his shaft on the canal of your back?”

Robb sighs and groans, then clears his voice, “But... I'd like... the opposite.”

“Ouch.”

“I know.”

“Well, this opens two scenarios: you are absolutely incompatible and will never manage to screw-”

“...remind me not to ask you for comfort anymore.”

Asha pouts and speaks louder, “Or you can try both and see if you can both like both.”

Robb clears his voice, “And how do I...”

She grins, then passes a hand on his neck, moving her fingers towards the chest, “How do you feel about girls, pup?”

“In no particular way.”

Her eyes shone wickedly, as she opens his shirt and moves towards him, “Let me try this question again, do I look like my brother a lot?”

Robb has a glimpse of understanding, swallows slowly and weakly nods. Asha sits on his lap, giving him a wide grin.

Robb tries to run, as embarrassment catches him, when he can feel her crotch rubbing on his own, her breast caressing his chest through the clothes she is opening slowly.

“You proposed me a marriage alliance, didn't you?”

“...yes?”

“Then. - she smirks, victorious, bending her head – I think they call this the honeymoon.”

Her tongue licks his full lips, she bites them, pulling until she hears him grunt and moan in a honeyed mixture of pain and pleasure. She rubs against him, slowly, smirk fuller as she feels him under her, getting swollen and tensing his pants.

She rises from the chair, “I'll come to visit your chambers tonight, pup.”

Robb stares at her, confused, then at his crotch and sighs heavily.

Her eyes like the dark pit of the ocean...

He bites his hand, trying to calm down, as his hips tense at the image of Theon riding his cock, sitting on him, and moving like she did.

 

*

 

She sees her weeping, hands hiding her pretty face, her sobs thrilling in the garden like dew drops on the grass. She sits next to her.

“I heard you have ill taste in men...”

Sansa turns, surprised and breathes in.

“I didn't hear you...”

“I'm good with ambushes.”, she smiles, charmingly, tilting her head.

Sansa laughs, sweetly. She seems to find a way to calm down and dries her tears.

“You are very kind to comfort me.”

“I saw you upset. I didn't like it.”

Sansa seems ashamed, “Was it a poor show?”

She startles as Asha puts a finger on her chin, raising her jaw ever so slightly. The smirk on her face makes Sansa feel warm again. 

Her eyelids flutter, she is unsure of what to do. Because, somehow, that warmth froze her and she can't run away.

It's like her legs got all weak and boneless, turning into lemon curd.

“Not exactly. - Asha mumbles, lowering her mouth yet still not touching her lips – It just left me bitter...”

“Bitter?”

“And jealous.”, she admits, struggling to.

Sansa closes her eyes and lets Asha catch her lips in hers. She is less gentle than her brother, expectedly, and more passionate, she sucks her bottom lip, then pushes her tongue in, making her writhe.

She tries to move, but Asha's arms are on her waist and back, keeping her close.

She's strong, firm. And Sansa doesn't feel threatened, after all.

She opens her mouth a bit more, giving her all the freedom to invade it and Asha takes it all, without flinching, greedy for the sweet taste.

Sansa trembles, sweats. She realizes she wouldn't mind being devoured.

But when she moves, Asha separates, licks the razor edge of her teeth and asks, “Was I too insolent, my lady?”

Sansa takes a moment to answer, then, looking by her side, shakes her head.

She still looks at those lips – how soft they felt against hers, how tender, with the fleshy delicate consistency of a magnolia petal, and yet the insistency and the urgency of some animal ready to feed on its little victim.

Sansa is ashamed to realize she is rubbing her thighs together.

Asha, instead, seems pleased, but places her hand right between those legs, over the dress gown, not touching them but forcing them apart. The way the silk crumples and bends around her fingers makes Sansa's head fill with a weird sensation she can't quite explain to herself.

Her hands are smaller than Theon's, but longer, and far less delicate. Her skin so soft on the lips and dry on the face due to the sea wind must be coarse and rough on the hands used to touch ropes and pull axes. She doesn't seem as delicate as her brother or any lord promised to her, for the matter, she sure looks stronger than ser Loras.

More powerful in a way.

There is something magnetic about her.

Sansa tries to remind herself it's a woman she is thinking about. That, that surely is unheard of.

Asha stares at her, satisfied, taking bliss in the little shyness and obvious fascination all painted over Sansa's face. She bends towards her and kisses her again.

This time she doesn't need to keep her for Sansa not to move away.

 

*

 

_The heavy blankets burden my limbs, fevery icy sweat shakes the flesh._

_I dream of Theon and rest escapes me._

_I wish I had a knife to take him out of my heart with. If I carved in my flesh deep enough, would I find where the thoughts of him lay?_

_Would I hollow them out, scoop away all the love?_

_And would there still be some part of me left?_

_He is such a big, such a burdening overpresent feeling – suffocating and yet needed beyond legitimacy. I need him. I roll in myself, open my ribcage and find only him, over and over._

_Mother, father ... what shame I'd bring them if they knew._

_And yet I can't stop, I can't force myself otherwise._

_He runs his fingers in my hair and I'm his, I smell his dark scent and I'm undone, I remember his expression when he came against me and I'm anew reborn just as nothing more than desire burning in vain for him._

_I lost my name and I know no strength._

_And now, what is Asha's plan?_

_What is her goal, after all? How can I trust her not to kill me, not to get the Iron Islands' independence but striking me in my..._

“ _Robb?”_

_Theon._

_He looks afflicted, almost wounded. His hair falls on his shoulder softly, gracefully. His lips are full and juicy like fruits._

_And I should hate him._

_And I can't._

“ _Sansa told me of your misguided idea.”_

_He becomes pale, “I- I hoped to tell you before she did. - he smiles weakly, no grin, and my heart is sold – I'm sorry...”_

“ _Why did you do it?”_

“ _You know why.”_

“ _I'm asking.”_

_He comes on me and presses his lips on mine. And I can't win, I never could. I give up to him and reply and assault his lips and drink his taste I was starved for._

_He puts away the blankets and comes under them with me, kissing harder and taking space. I run my hands on his hips, he runs his on my nape._

_He touches my cheek and frowns in meeting the beard, I pull him closer and try to ignore his doubts._

_I wish I could bite my whole heart out._

_I wish we could just forget what we were supposed to be._

“ _I've been cruel to her...”, he whispers._

“ _You were. - I push my tongue in his mouth, he tilts his head and closes his eyes, - You truly were.”_

_Theon tears his shirt and then mine, his fingers rush on my chest, I force his belt open._

_He moans when my hands rush on his crotch. It's high and wet and he seems terrified of it, but I can't let him stop._

_Not again. Not this once._

“ _Tell her you can't.”_

“ _Is that what you want? - he suffocates a grin in a quick kiss, then one after the other – She knows I'm not to marry her.”_

_His voice thunders in my mouth, his erection presses against mine and scratching with our nails makes us both tense and grinning._

_I grasp his mouth in mine and letting go to breathe gets harder._

“ _But she...”_

“ _You just don’t want me to tell her about you.”_

“ _She can't know. - I pant, weakly – She...”_

_Theon stares at me in the eye and I fall mute. He starts rubbing against me, again, Every moment feels like sparks as if I was lighting myself on fire but just for some instants and then, then I needed it again._

_He stares at me and gulps the bliss on my face._

_I grab his waist with my hands and keep him against my body – he can't rebel much and abandons himself to a kiss._

_He tastes so sweet, and leaves so much bitterness as he leaves my lips, even just to pant and bite his quivering lips, suffocating moans as he rubs against me like a horny dog._

“ _I'm not going to tell her.”, he promises._

“ _Tell her you can't love her.”_

_Theon nods, barely listening at this point._

“ _She knows I can't, you know too...”_

_Anger boils in me as I feel my skin melting under him and I bite into his shoulders and suck, making his voice a puddle of wetted curse words._

_I know, yes._

_I know too._

_That you can't love anyone._

_Not even yourself._

_You are truly alone in the world._

_And yet, yet I can't leave you._

_I bite your lips until they bleed and I see your eyes widen and feel your cock harden painfully against mine. I push you away and under me. Kissing you throws fuel on the fire that consumes me._

_Might as well reduce myself to ashes quickly._

_Your eyes look fragile, almost scared, as I tower you fully..._

_A chord in my heart aches._

“ _Don't marry her.”_

_And now, now I could be the cruel one. The one with the dagger to sink._

_The one to love you the wrong way._

_I swallow, “We will meet tonight.”_

_Theon frowns, dubious, “What? Why?”_

“ _To sign a deal.”_

“ _In your bed?”, he asks, furious, moving from under me._

“ _Yes.”_

_I find no pleasure in the salt your look throws on my wounds._

_I find no pleasure in the cold air that embraces me now that you moved away._

_Power means nothing to me if I can't make you mine..._

“ _You would fuck her.”_

“ _You fuck around quite a bit.”_

_He seems disgusted. “You'll do it just to punish me?”_

“ _Well, why did you kiss Sansa?”_

_He punches a wall._

_A mirror crushes on the ground, shattering. His hand bleeds. He clenches his teeth and his chest shakes up and down. His eyes are wide open but he sees nothing._

_He sees nobody._

 

*

 

“Oh, you're jealous. - she comments, with a smirk, entering the room – Isn't he cute?”

“Asha, it's not the...”

“Get out.”, Theon hisses.

She smiles, then sits on the bed, hand on Robb's cheek, “How possessive for someone who doesn't do anything.”

Theon becomes pale, “You... told her?”

Robb lowers his eyes and Asha starts taking off her clothes, careless of the eyes on her, “Don't blame him, Theon. If you are so scared, it's just right for him to try something new.”

“This is none of your business.”

Asha moves towards Theon; he tries not to look at her body, now naked under the candlelight. There is something about her that he can't deny calls for him.

Some root in his heart asks him to shut her up, to sink into her until she becomes speechless.

He looks away, but he is already discovered by a proud Asha and by Robb, who looks at him doubtful, confused.

“Join us.”, she asks.

Robb blinks, Theon doesn't reply.

His lips part, but no sound comes out.

Asha smirks, then walks toward Robb, sits on his lap and starts kissing him, slowly, her big tongue moving in and out, painting his lips. Her hands moving on his back and leaving red burning marks that make him growl.

Theon remains silent.

She kisses Robb's neck, sucks it purple and marks it with her teeth.

Robb looks into Theon's eyes.

Arousal, need, a desperate plea.

Theon sits on the bed and pulls Robb's face towards him, pushing inside him and letting their tongues entwine with bruised desire.

Asha's hands move to Robb's erection, making him emit a strangled, pleasured noise directly into Theon's mouth. 

“Quite cute...”, she comments, rubbing the cock with her flat palm, moving up and down.

Robb breaks the kiss, struggles to breathe, he lays his head on Theon's shoulder. His blood boils and gets dense, rushing to his groin.

Theon glares at Asha, possessively, but she just seems to find that more entertaining. 

She passes her hand through his long wavy hair and pulls him closer, despite his resistance, licking his lips, making him tremble in arousal. She gives him a sharp, vulgar smile and he tenses up.

Robb kisses his nape, playing behind Theon's ear, slowly courting the soft skin, then sucking his lobe mercilessly. Theon jumps, stiffs his back and Robb feels a weird elation filling his brain, making it lighter. 

His cold tongue scorches Theon's bones like fire, the collarbones and then back again the neck.

He pulls his hair and Theon's back shakes, arches in a quick twitch.

Asha's eyes gleam, “Oh, so sensitive... look at you, already a hot mess.”

“Fuck you...”

“Only me? That would be a waste.”, she mumbles, lips curled up like a hungry cat, her fingers ready to stroke his reddened erection.

Theon tries to protest but Robb's mouth on his shoulders leaves him breathless, forces him to pant. He can feel his blood running to where he sucks, as if he was being eaten by a greedy wolf, his sensitive, purpled skin getting bitten, making him stiffer, harder. His voice melts in drops of blissful, eager moans.

Asha's hand moves to his shaft, pumping it with strong, fast jerks. Theon screams, lets his tongue roll out and Robb catches him in a kiss, pushes his tongue into him, filling him to the back of his throat.

Theon's hips start to squirm, moving in short, quick thrust movements.

As Asha's hand leaves the shaft to go towards the balls, Robb sees Theon widening his eyes.

Insecurity. It sinks in his stomach like a stone.

“Let me go first.”, he says, more as an order than a request.

Asha decides to allow it, for now. She smirks.

“Fine. - she leaves Theon's groin and moves towards Robb, caressing him – Then you should fuck me while he fucks you.”

She lays on the bed and pulls Robb over her, ungracefully, by the shoulders. He blinks, tries to kiss her neck, but she seems quickly annoyed.

“You’ve never warmed a woman up, have you? - she turns to Theon – Show him how it's done.”

“Don't give me orders.”

“Don't you like it?”, she provokes him.

Robb moves slightly, giving Theon some space to go between Asha's thighs. He moves some of her pitch black hair, then sticks his tongue out and starts licking her pussy in vertical movements.

Robb stares, unable to swallow, as he sees Asha's legs contract and then tense, as if all her nerves jerked at once. She puts a hand on her mouth, finally showing a reaction, and presses it hard to avoid moaning loudly.

Theon clenches her legs and brings her closer, his tongue going faster, jolting now in circles over her pink soft flesh.

He can't stop looking – he feels like all his nights spent wondering what Theon did to those women, how he touched them, as if it became real. And it hurt his heart and made him hard all together.

Theon starts going faster and Asha arches her back, presses on his head with a trembling hand, both pushing him down and slightly away.

Robb bends over her and kisses her, now gently, now angrily for all the attention she was getting from Theon. He presses his hands against her wrists and can feel her moving towards him, wanting more.

Theon moves faster, lets his tongue tingle her clit, tickling it, tormenting it. He can feel Asha's legs crossing over his back and grins, pushing a finger into her drenched cunt.

Asha bites into Robb's tongue, but keeps him close, moaning into his mouth, while the young wolf jerks his cock to complete hardness, pushing into her first mouth as he wants to in the second one.

Theon puts a second finger in and curves them, caressing the top hard wall, slowly rubbing while he felt around the sweet cave, his fingers getting wetter. He returns to lick her, making her twist and writhe, biting her own hand.

She startles, arches, aches – a feeling like fire starts to spread from her clit and burns her crotch, inside and outside, leaving her in an unraveled series of moans and a need to shoot.

Theon chuckles, then takes the clit between his lips and sucks it, while pressing inside on her sweet spot. Asha screams, clenching his fingers, tighter and tighter, and melts both on Theon's tongue and against his hand, dry and liquid, shooting pleasure in a quick squirt.

She pants, speechless, while Theon raises his face and cleans his mouth with the back of his hand, staring at her with the proud look of one who does not like to be underestimated.

Then he goes to Robb, grabs his face and kisses him, hungrily and desperately.

Robb whines, when the other separates and throws him on the bed, over his sister.

He opens Robb's legs, making space between them and starts licking the inner thigh and the balls, sucking gently their skin. Robb fights a moan and tries to focus on Asha, trembling from the afterglow under him, and pushes in, making her open her mouth in a delighted smile, as she gets filled, all her aching shivering walls touched and ready to be fucked.

Robb swallows, nervous, trying to enter slowly not to hurt her, as he was said to do, but as his head is in, the heat seem to welcome him like paradise and he sinks in in one strong thrust. Asha moans in bliss, starting to move against him, until she can feel his balls against her.

The warmth seems to go to his head and he holds the base of his cock, trying to grasp some control uselessly. It feels good, way too good.

When Theon's tongue darts on his thighs and passes on his ass, Robb starts to move, thrusting, slamming. He holds Asha's waist, forcing her completely around him and bangs ruthlessly fast, hitting her top with every single thrust.

She clenches to him, sinks her nails into his back, making him growl in arousal like a wild animal.

Theon clenches his fist at the sight. He couldn't bear to see Robb fucking someone else, not so needy, not so fucking into it.

He licks his fingers and enters Robb's hole abruptly.

Robb's jaw falls down, leaving his mouth agape, unable to stop moving. Theon adds the second finger and starts thrusting into him fast enough for Robb to slow down, unable to move as well, his ass twitching and making his legs deliciously weak.

Asha at first seems annoyed, but as she sees the expression on the two boys’ faces she feels a flush of arousal and can't stop herself from licking her lips while enjoying the show.

Robb stutters, his voice low and heavy, his erection by now painful, and a weirdly amazing sensation from his ass.

Asha smirks and starts moving very slowly, fucking herself on Robb's cock, while Theon took away the fingers and poured a generous amount of oil on his shaft.

“I'm going to enter at three... - he mumbles in his ear, kissing Robb's auburn curls, - One...”

Robb bites his lips, tilts his neck, resting his head on Theon's shoulder, while he can feel Asha making her rhythm faster and starting to moan again. 

“Two...”

“I'm not sure I-”

But Theon is in.

Robb pants weakly, as if keeping still will in any way make it safer. Theon caresses his hair, kisses his neck, gently, then starts to move.

And that's when Robb can't focus anymore on anything.

His vision gets almost blurred and his voice is reduced to a whisper.

Asha is now moving fast and Theon gains rhythm inside him. 

Robb doesn't grasp anything, it doesn't even feel real, both his front and back feel hot. Just hot, as if a damn inferno is burning in his guts and cock alike. It's warm everywhere, he feels like he is melting all over the place. His hips thrust into Asha erratically, in rough harsh thrusts which seem though to make her squirm and cling onto him, Theon instead moves fast, faster, stronger with every push. 

It fills him, it stretches him good. Robb bites his lips, muting his groans of pleasure, wondering if the feeling of his guts being torn apart slowly should feel so good, but it does; it damn does to the point that when Theon moves back a bit as to exit, Robb feels empty and in need for more.

Theon grabs his hips and pulls them towards him, pushing deeper into Robb's tender ass, feeling him making space to welcome his throbbing, pulsating erection.

He smirks, lowering himself on him, “Can you feel it, hm? How hard you make me?”

Robb nods.

“Feel it more.”, he shouts, pushing deep enough for his balls to slam almost like a slap on Robb's ass, making him feel weirdly pleasured by the shame of taking all of Theon on his first try.

He is sure he shouldn't like it, but he doesn’t care.

Theon is in his ass now, not some woman's cunt. 

“You two are very neglectful...”, Asha complains, panting slightly.

Theon grins, “Sorry, let me try this...”

He keeps Robb attached to him and changes their position, sitting now and with Robb over him, riding his cock. He adapts to the pain quickly, Theon feels so much bigger now, and he tries to force himself not to scream, but when Asha sits on him, he can't help but let out a deep, dark moan. He feels again the heat melting him. 

She puts her hands on his shoulders and starts to ride him, faster than before, going up and down, taking all of his length without effort. Every time his head hits her top he can feel his cock hardening and tensing.

She grins at him, satisfied with the face he is making, painted in a painfully good pleasure, slightly red from the need of release.

Theon passes his arms around them, his hands on Asha's hips and starts thrusting into Robb again, closing him between their two movements, trapped by two pleasures, unarmed and defenseless. Theon bites his shoulders, forcing himself to thrust roughly, shaking Robb as deep as he can...

He wants to make sure that when he comes, he won't be sure which one of the two sensation gave him the final blow.

Asha seems to struggle with keeping the rhythm more and more as she gets close to coming again, she slows down, growls in frustration, while her hips tremble.

Robb starts to ram into her again, and while fucking her he can feel himself moving up and down Theon's thickness.

Theon loses control and lets Robb lead, Asha abandons herself against him too, and when Robb empties himself into her, he makes sure to resist some moments more, fucking himself over Theon until he too comes, filling his ass completely.

Asha pants and moves away, noticing not without surprise how wet she is between her legs.

Robb barely moves, exhausted, and Theon grabs him by the jaw and kisses him furiously happy.

“Yuck, sappy.”, she comments, amused, going down from the bed and searching for some kind of alcohol. Her legs falter a bit, making her swing slightly- Robb stares at her narrow hips, having almost the same shape as Theon's despite their different sexes, and her tight ass. She grabs a bottle of blackbelly rum with a big “Ah-a!” and grins, victoriously, drinking three big gulps.

She returns to the bed and pushes the liqueur to her brother, who drinks voraciously from it, while Robb leaves quick kisses on his jaw line.

Theon kisses him back, tenderly, and glares at his sister, as she catches the wolf's lips in her own right after to tease him mischievously.

He holds Robb closer to himself.

She grins and licks his lips too, grabbing again the bottle and chugging more.

Her lips shine wet.

The sweet and sour bluish red taste runs in their throats and warms their faces. They sip the color of bruises, keeping their skin whole.

Asha moves towards Theon, caressing his dick slowly, teasing his balls with her fingertips.

He frowns, “Still?”

“You can't be already tired. - she glances at Robb – He surely is not.”

Robb swallows as Theon turns to him, inquisitive, then to his crotch. Well, he is indeed sixteen, after all.

He passes a tongue over his lips and puts himself on all fours, his hand courting Robb's length, his mouth tickling his thighs. Robb chokes a grunt, he stares down in awe.

Seeing Theon like that was enough to set his balls on fire.

The gaze he sends him, confident and yet all intent to please him, gives Robb a weird pride, a sort of acquired taste for power. He bites his bottom lip, trying to not force Theon's head on him yet.

Theon's hand is soft, more than his sister's, but warmer, his hold stronger and when he moves up and down, jerking the whole length, Robb can barely feel any pain. It's just pleasure tensing him.

Asha licks her lips, staring down, and grasps the occasion for kissing her brother's back, before sweetly, then biting it, making him arch and ache.

“Tu-tut, control yourself, you'll hurt Robb. - she smirks, bending over his ear – Why don’t you do to him what you did to me, hm?”

Theon seems reluctant at first.

He presses on Robb's tip with his thumb, rubbing it, then places his tongue on the shaft and sees Robb tensing like marble. He emits a frustrated muffled groan, his veins engorging on the cock as on the hands, which he clenches.

He looks desperate to control himself.

Theon's eyes shine in a wicked gleam and he starts licking faster, painting the throbbing veins on the cock, the pulsating flesh. He traces the contour of the tip, tickling it slightly, torturing sweetly Robb with how close he was to his sensitive, reddened head.

Aroused harsh grunts drip from Robb's chopped lips, his arms shiver between pained pleasure and needy frustration.

Theon grins, passing his teeth gently on the palpitating flesh, drinking up the hardness Robb reached and how swollen his cock got under his touch.

He supposes it's not that bad, after all.

He opens his mouth and welcomes it all in.

Robb bends his head back with a speechless scream unravelling out of his agape mouth.

He tries to protest, to make sure Theon is ready – but when he sees his cheek filled, his face half-deformed by his cock, he can barely control himself from slamming into his mouth.

Theon's mouth is melted hell, pure heat, his tongue playing with him mercilessly, ruthlessly, the back of his throat hitting his tip. Robb's eyes roll to the ceiling, his knuckles white as he holds the sheets.

He wants to fuck that mouth.

Asha, in the meantime, reached her brother's balls and started sucking them.

Theon's moans get chocked by Robb's cock pulsing inside him and the delicious reaction makes her insist, passing her tongue through the scrotum and then following the flesh until the asshole, licking its borders, slowly and then bolting.

Theon half-shouts, his voice muffled and yet the vibrations hit Robb's head, making him even harder in his mouth.

Robb bites his own lips and forces himself to not thrust, despite the pain in his hips and his hurtfully erect cock.

Asha's tongue enters in Theon's ass. And he arches, moving more forward, swallowing Robb's dick up to the last inch and sucking on it, struggling for air.

Robb is cursing himself, “...are you sure it's not too much?”

Asha looks up at him and grins, “Let's ask him. - and presses a finger into Theon's entrance, pushing it in and making him scoot even more against Robb, his hips shaking desperately – Are you bothered, Theon?”

Theon tries to moan, but the answer gets melted against Robb's erection.

His eyes, though, glare at them, watery, eager, craving. They shine in liquid pleasure, begging helplessly.

His cock drips and his legs shake.

Asha adds a second finger and moves them in, searching for something, making Theon's hips jerk and twist; his mouth boils, wetter and hotter as arousal takes its toll on him.

Robb puts his hands on his face and forces him down, thrusting into him.

He can feel Theon moaning against his head, his saliva surrounding his cock, the desperate sounds he makes trembling against it. The louder his chocked sounds get, the harder Robb slams, pushing into his throat.

Asha's fingers explore, taking space, alternating some quick moves to slow caresses until she feels something against her fingers and grins, flicking and pressing it.

Theon jerks, tries to arch, but Robb's hands keep him still and, somehow, that makes him harder. He can feel all the strength of his arms pressing, all the power of his loins banging him. He can't stop himself to wish instead of his sister's fingers there were something else inside him.

Asha twists her fingers and hits again the sweet spot, careless of any protest, intoxicated by the sight of Theon's cock that’s ready to shoot.

Asha grabs the emptied bottle and thoughtfully pushes the thinner, slender part of it inside her brother. He moans, not protesting, his eyes completely interlocked with Robb, who seems unable to stop thrusting, faster and stronger. Not that Theon would let him, at that point.

She turns it, rotating it gently, moving it in and out, and sees the muscles contracting, trying to keep it inside.

Asha pushes it further and faster and then, finally, Theon screams in delight, separating himself from Robb, but then getting him back against, thirsty with his heat.

Robb doesn't need to hold him down anymore, as he enjoys, dazed, the sight of Theon sucking on him like a whore. He looks needy, frenzied in a puddle of sweat and precum.

Asha strikes his prostate and Theon sucks so desperately that Robb bursts, slamming into his mouth one more time and pouring all his cum into it.

Theon lets it slide down his throat – salty and thick. He cleans his lips ad rubs himself on the sheets, waiting for Asha to touch more, but she just removes the bottle, coldly.

“What-”

“Ask.”

“What?”

Asha grins, “Ask please.”

“I'm not going to beg for it.”

“Really? - she raises an eyebrow – You look like you would.”

And saying this she sinks a single finger in his ass, making him sigh in need and moan, as she brushes on the prostate, without pressing it enough. He shivers, biting his lips, looks at Robb, finding him way too aroused to stop her.

Asha's other hand moves on his cock and holds the base, clenching it slightly.

“Don't even think of-”

Asha rubs again on the prostate, this time intensely, pressing, squishing, hitting it; Theon's mouth softens in a series of pleading squabbles, his cock too hard to bear.

“Ask gently.”, she orders, firmly.

Theon's hand clenches Robb's thigh, “Please... let me...”

Asha half-chuckles, “Let me what?”

“Let me come.”, he screams.

“Who do you want, hm?”, she asks.

Theon trembles, his eyes staring at Robb's next to him, already half-hard. He remembers how the bottle stretched him and still, a part of him was craving something bigger, as if he wished for his ass to be ripped open.

“Robb. - he swallows, his voice crinkled, his face poorly hidden against the man's leg – I want Robb.”

He tries to raise himself better, but as he lifts his head from Robb's leg, he bows and kisses him intensely, enamored and blind. As his tongue fills Theon's tired mouth, the older stiffens, caught by the urgency of having him somewhere else, and breaks the kiss, panting.

“Inside.”

It sounds helpless and yet still like an order.

Robb smiles and nods, kissing him just once again, quickly, a peck on the lips, then making him turn.

Theon tries to place himself on his elbows but those tremble and let him slide on the sheets, uncomfortably moaning at every brush of the sheets against his erection. Robb kisses his legs, raising his ass high enough.

Asha, in the meantime, lays on the bed and kisses Theon's ear, almost too gently for her, licking it’s rim. Her lips catch his lobe and suck it slowly.

Robb's first finger is in and Theon seems to protest the emptiness, moving his ass more towards him, pressing against Robb's hand. Asha chuckles and that's when Theon recognizes her, after all.

She licks his ear again, whispering “You're already so loose, you just crave his cock.”

He doesn't answer, his voice muted as Robb inserts another three fingers and moves them inside him.

“It's so big, but you will take it all, like a good little slut, won't you?”

Theon shivers, his mind goes blank; he wishes he could insult her but he can't think about anything.

Robb is inside.

It hurts, not unpleasantly, though. As if it made sense, nothing made sense then.

Theon can feel his flesh pulling, tensing, his ass stretching open to welcome Robb's thick cock and that absurd tensing feels good.

He feels him, he feels him everywhere, taking his place and bending him to his pleasure.

His tongue falls out, as he pants in bliss with the first push.

Robb's hand press on his hips, they force him close as he enters more, inch by inch. Theon bends his head behind, abandoning himself to the absurd heat running up his spine, fucking his nerves up whole.

Asha bites his ear and he shouts, delight mixed in pain.

“Look at you... - she whispers, in a grin – You’ve wanted this so much, haven’t you? Look at your ass, it's basically swallowing that cock.”

“Shut that...”

Another push, another thrust, and his eyes loll to the ceiling and an acute, lewd, drenched moan fills the room. His knees give in, but Robb puts an arm under them and keeps thrusting, rougher every time, every time deeper.

Theon can feel his flesh getting forced open, and how tight it all is – it's too big, far too big, but he wants that. He wants that burn, that burning, smashing, feeling filled up to the brink.

“What a slut you are.”

He doesn't correct her anymore. Her words make the pleasure sharper, ready to cut him.

Robb slams into him, trying to find what seemed to have sent Theon so crazy some minutes before, and goes as deep as he can, seeing his legs shivers in delight, but not yet as strong.

He sinks his fingers deeper into Theon's hips and he arches, whining, his voice soaked.

And he starts moving against Robb, clumsily, pleasure making him weak and rough.

Robb stares, amazed, harder every second, while he sees Theon fucking himself on his cock, searching for... oh, he sees it, that moment in which he twitches, squirming, and then searches for that point again, drunkly blind with need.

And Robb sinks.

With all of his length, balls-deep, into Theon. Then pulls almost out, stopping and rubbing, insistently moving exactly where Theon jolts, panting and moaning obscenely.

Robb thrusts there, hits the prostate harder, feeling Theon's muscles clinging onto him, craving him inside. So tight and hot it almost burns him.

He slams as harsh as he can and Theon bursts, shooting on the sheets, covering them in sperm.

His flesh feels naked, exposed beyond repair, while Robb keeps fucking him, now free to go deeper again, to push all of himself into Theon. It stings, and yet Theon can't remember ever feeling better, while his used raw flesh brims with Robb's cum.

Asha pets his hair, “Good boy...”

Theon weakly tries to sit up, his sister now helping him, kissing his jaw – he pants still, but turns to Robb and grabs him to kiss him deeply. Robb smiles into the kiss, pulling him close, pressing inside him. Their tongues rubs on each other slowly, sharing a slow moment of hazy, dazed peace.

Theon squirms against Robb, as his skin still tingles in sparks under his touch. He breathes in, now ecstatic, when he feels Robb's arm holding him close, strongly, against his chest.

Robb presses his face against Theon's shoulders and murmurs, slowly, his voice low with embarrassment.

“Avy jorrāelan...”

“I know...”, Theon replies, kissing his ear.

Asha looks at them with a feline, satisfied smile.

Her gaze falls on the door of the room and her smile turns into a wide grin.

 

*

 

Theon wakes up on Robb's chest, his head resting on the soft hint of auburn fur. He smells good to him, somehow, despite the previous night.

He can feel Asha's soft bosom pressing against his back, her arm around his waist, keeping him as close as she can. He heard her cry during night, but didn't confess to be awake, nor does he think he ever will.

He nuzzles into Robb, and he, half-asleep, caresses his hair.

As Theon moves, rubbing slightly, Asha bites his back.

“Ouch!”

“Don't move, jerk.”, she shuts him up, pushing her face more against his back and holding him like a child would hold their dearest toy.

He sighs.

“Annoying.”

Robb chuckles, “You two really are very similar.”

“Excuse you?”, Theon fakes offence, while smiling. He pinches Robb's nipple and gains back a squeeze.

“God! - Asha groans, grumpy – Sleeping with children is impossible.”

She rustles under the blankets and rolls out of bed. At first, she's cold, she grabs Theon's dark blouse and, finding it tight on the chest but too long, looks around for her own trousers and boots.

She throws herself out of the room quite quickly, hoping to find enough eggs to satiate her hunger.

When the door closes, Theon moves against Robb again.

He can feel Robb’s toes touching his ankle.

He is a bit shorter than him, for now, which makes Theon glad. He likes being taller and leaner. But he also looks at his chest and smiles, thinking he was so stupid for being so angry at Robb for it.

Of course he'd grow like that.

He knew he was a man, he just had to accept it. And to accept he... oh, well, nobody had to know, after all.

“I need you.”

Robb grins, glowing, proud, “I know.”

Theon chuckles, “Cocky.”

They close their eyes, resting for a while longer.

 

*

 

Asha finds the dining room illuminated by a thin, vivid light. She stares at the big windows, annoyed as the sunlight flashes in her eyes.

It's too bright for the little amount of sleep she had gotten and she sits at the table already annoyed, and if had to be said frankly wishing to return to bed soon.

Maybe she could have left now. She had helped the kid and she doesn't want to be far from home for longer periods of time lately.

Her mother has rare moments of lucid minds, she looks like a stretched, sketched ghost of herself, and her father is passing from stubborn to merely idiotic way too quickly for her taste.

It was rare for her to crave home more than the sea, but what choice did she have?

A bad, heavy presage landed on her head before the raven from Winterfell arrived and she did not enjoy leaving, but could they afford to ignore a Stark raven?

And, despite it all, she had to see him. The brother she lost at half.

For two were dead and chopped and gone, but he- he was alive and far away, unreachable. So close and yet for her hand so far. She missed him so ferociously it made her sick at night.

Every time their mother asked of her babyboy, she felt puke riding her mouth and disgust feasting on her stomach.

Her baby, their baby. Stolen, taken and kept – ah, alas!, she should be grateful of that much too.

But it's hard to cheer while chugging sea water.

She raises her eyes, as she perceives someone entering the room. Sansa startles, breathes in the most shivered gasp and almost exists as quickly as she had arrived.

“My lady, please, sit!”

Sansa seems doubtful.

Asha raises an eyebrow, mocking, “Oh, did it scare you that much?”

She now seems offended, a red shame mixed with a sting pinches her heart, “You didn't scare me! I... I don't know what you are talking about.”

“I saw the door. - she chirps, that feline smile coming back on her lips, she leans on her palm – What a curious little bird you are.”

“I just... I saw Theon's room empty, so...”

“So when you heard those noises you peeked through the door?”

Sansa flushes and stiffs, “Don't you make fun of me. - she seems to suddenly remember being a noblewoman and the child hides away – You, he... he is your brother.”

Asha blinks, impressed.

“So, the fact your brother was inside him is not what is bothering you?”

“No. - she says firmly, then realizes how it had sounded – I mean, yes, it was not a... very dignified view... - her eyes widen as she seems to remember some details – But Theon and my brother were... often to indulge in similar... acts with each other in the years before, so. Not of this nature, but...”

“Oh... they are more stupid than I had thought. - she grins – And you far more of a sly little bird.”

Sansa sits. On her tray there's some lavender and honey steaming water, lemon cakes – way more than one person would need in a day – and something soft and colorful.

Sansa frowns, “It's jam. Maybe you don't have it on the islands.”

“I rarely see it, I don't usually go food tasting when I take a city.”

“You customs seem to be pretty rough, as I suppose your rules in matter of incest.”

Asha blinks, pleasantly surprised.

She liked that sharp tongue coming out of that soft silky heart.

“Maybe. - she steals a lemon cake watching in delight Sansa's appalled expression as she bit it – But if you tried, you might discover certain things may be both immoral and enjoyable.”

“Incest?”

“With your brother, I would sign up for that, but he doesn't seem the type who would manage to get erected into his sister. - she mumbles, blunt, Sansa more and more confused on if that was really a woman from any noble house – But sex, generally speaking, is something you could benefit from.”

“How, exactly?”, her voice seems to sharply slap Asha's cheek.

A smirk.

She lays with her back more on the chair, swinging slightly.

She looks as cocky as the brother, Sansa notices; with the difference she seems to lack his tender secretive weakness for ideals. She is, after all, much more practical.

“Do you really want all the sex you'll have to be in the hands of the husband you'll receive as a gift from your family, wrapped in old wrinkly traditions? - she chuckles – No doubt, they'll pick him rich and noble, but men come in many types, my lady, some are old, too much for such a pretty flower, some are rude and unkind in bed as much as they are sweet and well-presenting out of it. - she lowers her eyes on Sansa's waist – Some, some lay only for their sperm to flush out of them and maybe getting themselves some screaming heir, but forget about you being in that thalamus too. Some never visit, if not once every dutiful moon, and prefer the stable boys or their dearest friends, like your brother. - and she sees Sansa clenching her hands, squishing her own fingers – And most of them, after years of unpleasing bedding, will get their cock wet with wenches, millers' wives, servants who just bled and have their cunt still tight and firm boobs, none of them deformed by children.”

She grins, as she sees she's winning her over.

Sansa looks dubious, her eyes glimmering in a shameful awareness, “But it'd be so shallow, so vulgar. Bedding without any love, no feeling of affection, but just hunger, lustful needs... what would that make of me?”

“A man?”, she laughs.

“Not one I've heard songs of.”, she whispers.

Asha frowns: does the little small thing think that songs may be true and someone out there would be pure enough for her dreams?

Laughable.

Her eyes lower, sadly. She suddenly feels tired, somewhat exhausted from inside her bones – it was a sudden sensation, and yet, if she had to say it herself, should would have called it slow, consuming, unrushed.

She chuckles, “We, we are very different, you and I.”

“I'd guess so.”, Sansa comments, trying to sound austere, sucking her bottom lips.

She tries to imitate her mother's glare, but she fails and tries to eat.

“Could you guess why I'd take an axe and a boat as husband and son?”

Sansa squints her eyes, curious despite her wishes, “For they are in your hands, I'd suppose.”

“Smart birdy. - she smiles – I'd loathe to be tied, to be closed up. Children, vows, those are chains dressed in soft velvet words, so we'd put them on gladly. - she takes a munch of bread – And it is so uneven. Men tie us, but never get tied back. Not only we are chained, but chained alone.”

“Maybe Iron borns.”

“Theon would.”

“Theon is Ironborn.”

“Theon is the least Ironborn I’ve ever met. - she pauses – He was always meek and too sweet. He'd look at me, smile, then cry, cry loudly and shy away from our brothers... They made him worse.”

Sansa stiffs, “He is not half as bad as you say. He is strong, brave. He saved my brother Bran in the woods once, from wildlings. - she smiles, proud of her observation – My broth... - a painful glass thought pierces her and she has to regain herself – He would not be half-poor of a husband.”

Asha licks her lips, smirking, as someone who found a mouse in a trap.

Somehow, when she seems in control, that bothers Sansa, deeply, but in an uncomfortably warm way, which makes her spine softer and her thighs hold against each other.

“And, tell me, how many women did Theon have in Winterfell?”

“...many.”

“And you'd think he'd be faithful to the chains of marriage as his wife would be?”

Sansa lowers her head, bites her lips.

“You are smart, my lady. I doubt not it might have upset you the... sight of tonight, but you should not judge an older woman on her marital plans.”

Sansa springs, irritated, “Marital plans? Like the ones that brought us here? Will you bear my brother a son? Or your brother?”

Asha gazes at her, tempted.

“Why are you that wrathful towards me, my lady?”

Sansa's hands drop the fork from her cake as she stands up, ready to leave the room; Asha stands up too, right after her, seemingly out of respect, and moves towards her quickly. Sansa turns her head, offended, blushing, her chest shaken.

Asha grabs her wrist, not forcefully ant yet so unexplainably effectively.

“Why such anger? It almost looks strange on your face.”

“I- you... - she trembles, her eyes wonder, she tries to find something, a branch to hold onto with her heart – Your brother...”

Asha raises an eyebrow, “Is it about my brother?”.

She asks almost amused, as if she knows she's making excuses and sees Sansa frantically trying to find a truth she can't grasp yet. It escapes her, it hides behind a door she can't seem to open.

Sansa just weakly moves her head, mouthing a breathless “I'm not sure...”.

Asha moves her other hand on Sansa's thin waist and grabs her closer.

She's young, no doubt, even too much. And she knows she's playing with something frail and delicate.

Yet she herself is not sure anymore if she is, in fact, playing.

Sansa's eyes look watery, shining with a dense light. Is it desire Asha reads in it?

Or is it what she hopes to see?

She pulls Sansa close and brings her into a kiss, before as gentle as she imagines she would ask of a knight, then presses harder, courting her lips, making her open them. Sansa welcomes her unaware, her arms giving in and forgetting resistance. Her head felt light, heavy her heart.

Asha takes over her mind so quickly and effortlessly, she is left defeated. She takes her with a kiss, she violates her mouth with her tongue. 

And Sansa can't object, she can't call no or shout nor leave.

Asha separates herself. She grins but her eyes look vulnerable.

“I don't think we should...”

“We definitely shouldn't. - Asha holds her delicate hands – But wanting something noble is way rarer than you may think.”

“My brother, what would he think?”

“Your brother the one completely enamored by mine? - a chuckle – Is his judgement troubling you?”

“Quite. His and my lady mothers’. They...”

Asha's hand tingles her waist, making her startle, her eyes all watery and weak to temptation. 

And her gods and Asha's alike, they all know, they must know, she meant not to fall for her.

They must know.

Sansa could not think of herself as someone who would have her heart throb and ache over a pirate, a woman – couldn't she bring herself to care of her beautiful knight she saw in little paintings her parents showed her? Couldn't she bring herself to love the idea of them just enough to resist this?

Her lips quiver and she lifts herself on her tiptoes, reaching for Asha's lips as she bows over her and holds her around the waist.

Sansa fears she might break it, for Asha looks careless and free like the sea wind.

And because she herself can barely feel like she can stand on her own.

 

*

 

The knocking at the door wakes Robb up in a half jump. Theon blinks slowly, as he gets shoved when Robb's shoulders spring up like a soldier, but he quickly decides to ignore the sounds and closes his eyes again.

“Robb, open this door!”

And then he widens them again, meeting Robb's terrified look.

His mother.

“What do I do?”, Robb mouths.

“Ask her to join? She is still quite the thing?”

“Fuck you.”

“I'd rather...”

“I don't want to know. - he cleans his voice with a cough – Yes, mother? I am right now not fully dressed and...”

A deep sigh, “I seem to remember you not coming out of my parts dressed. I must be failing at picturing the shirt you wore.”

“...give me just a second!”, he mumbles, rustling to the blankets and signing Theon to return to his room or hide under the bed, quickly.

“Is Greyjoy there?”

“No, I... - a cough – I'm not sure where Theon is.”

“I meant your... delightful betrothed.”, she makes an effort.

“What? No. I-”

“Did you call for a prostitute, then?”

“Mother!”

“Then open this door, I can't find Sansa anywhere.”

Robb stares at Theon in panic, as he retreats under the bed slowly, and Robb puts on some pants, opening the door with the fakest smile he can think of.

His mother glares at him.

“Your neck is purple.”

“I, I.. got burnt with a candle.”

“...that doesn't look like a burn, rather a...”

“Well the candle fell on me, and then I was hurt so I shouted and jumped and hit the neck against the... chimney.”

He sucks his lips slowly, while Catelyn stares at him, staring at him as if she had expected at least a better lie.

She clears her voice and widens her eyes staring at the ground, with a sigh, “I'm wondering where Sansa went. I can't find her nor in the castle nor in the gardens.”

“Maybe she went to take a ride...”

“Without an escort? - she seems startled – What if she fell? She is not as good as Arya and...”

“She is good and she always picks the prettiest, slowest, less dangerous horses, she will be fine.”

“I'm worried, it's not like her to disappear like this.”

Robb smiles and caresses his mother's arms, protectively, reassuring, “If it makes you feel better, we'll go to search for her.”

She nods, “I'll go prepare then.”

“Oh, oh no. Me and Theon, Theon and I will go.”

She frowns, “And I should sit here while you and Theon Greyjoy of all people go to search for my child?”

Robb fakes a tenser smile, “Mother, he is a good horseman and he can shoot bears. I'm not sure what more could you hope for.”

“For him not to be here?”

“I... I'm not sure this is a discussion we do want to have...”, he tries, weakly.

She seems just angrier, “You can tell him to rise from behind the bed.”

Robb's jaw lowers slowly, while Theon rises and smiles charmingly yet with an awkward wrinkle at the corner of the mouth, “I always thought you had an eagle eye.”.

Catelyn smiles at him in a way that makes Theon Greyjoy shiver and regret any wet dream he might have had at twelve about her.

“I see you also had your share of troubles with the chimney. - she comments, then returns to look at Robb like she could thunderbolt him – I really hope if an unmoved piece of furniture was enough to harm these two men, they will make sure to survive the forest while they look for my daughter. Can I trust you around trees and bushes or do I need to pray for your safety around leaves?”

“I am... - Theon swallows – I'll do my best to keep Robb alive. Even against flowers.”

She smiles, blinking, “I'm so glad.”

Robb coughs, “So you will have the chance to kill me yourself?”

“I still haven’t decided. - she admits, sighing – Go find her, we will... discuss the chimney later.”

She seems to soften up and Robb smiles, but as she looks at Theon again she stiffs as if she got scorched.

She caresses his arm tenderly.

He really grew up, she notices not without a thorn in her heart.

Her boy...

“Find her, please.”, she whispers.

 

*

 

“ _Sansa can't be far away... - my voice doesn't sound as firm as I'd like – I'm sure she is around here.”_

_Theon breathes in, he seems to be distant, somehow._

_Maybe it's due to mother. She is not the kindest to him..._

_Her mistrust hurts him deeply since many years._

“ _Are you here?”_

_Also the laugh didn't come out as bright as I hoped for and Theon seems to not be noticing me._

“ _... maybe they are not in the woods. - he says after a long pause - … maybe she went towards the Blazewater Bay, on the beach, not towards the hills.”_

_A pain again in the chest._

_I hate the sea._

_The sea is going to take you away._

_Its wind is a slap and it's scent awakes in you memories without me._

“ _...do you miss it?”_

_A smug smirk, “I'm just saying they could be there.”_

“ _They?”_

“ _If my guess is right, Sansa has not been in danger. No more than us with the chimney.”_

“ _Explain.”_

_A laugh. He turns._

_Beautiful and cruel, really a true prince of the sea._

_A creature made all of water and salt. Sea and tears alike._

“ _I'm not the only Greyjoy to fancy beauty. - he pulls the reins and Smiler protests – Probably Asha took her for a walk.”_

“ _Your sister? Is.. She shouldn't be alone with your sister!”_

“ _Well, we are both lucky she is a woman, so it won't seem inconvenient to anyone.”, Theon chuckles._

“ _She is not a common woman!”_

“ _I didn't say it won't be inconvenient. - another laugh – I said it won't seem so.”_

“ _How can you laugh about this?”_

“ _How truly? I thought you cared for my sister, if not for anything, for her to be my blood and..._

“ _Asha is not... a nice maiden of a pure heart, but neither is any of us. - he sighs – Nor the Tyrells, for the matter. Asha at least won't leave her with child.”_

“ _My sister wouldn't...”_

“ _...commit impure acts with a member of the same sex?”, he suggest, moving his eyebrows, his eyes suggestively half-lidden._

_Damn, I hate him._

_A deep sigh, a jerk to the reins, “Let's find them before anything happens. I'm not sure I'd bear it.”_

_Theon seems annoyed, but he won't say why. He'll ride stubbornly towards the sea, towards Cape Kraken._

_I must admit I never saw any of the Kraken in him._

_...except his tendency to grab whatever he wanted to._

_For the rest, he always seemed too graceful, bold, sure, and handsome and strong, but also so delicate and refined and smooth._

_He is not a kraken. Asha is._

… _she is right, Luwin too... he'll never be their lord._

_I even doubt he's an ironman, somehow, stubbornness aside. I know only I see him like that, but..._

_He has something pure inside him._

_Also raw and strong and dark._

_But also something pure._

_He may be the dark salty cold sea._

_But he’s also its soft foam reaching the shore._

“ _Your mother... do you think she'll forbid me to see you?”_

“ _She can't.”_

“ _She'll ask.”_

“ _I'll say no.”_

_Theon licks his lips nervously. Then bites them, clenching his fist on the reins._

“ _You are not good at denying you mother what she wants.”_

“ _She wanted me not to befriend you and about that I never caved in.”_

_I smile but he can't see._

_He stiffs his back and adjusts how he is sitting. Like his back is hurting suddenly._

 

*

 

Blazewater Bay extends for many miles, but it's only close to Cape Kraken that they finally see a black dark stallion. One alone.

Robb rides rushed and violently on the beach, yelling the name of his sister. Theon follows, slower, observing longer, checking the spaces where she might have found some... repair.

“Maybe they looked for shelter in a cave?”

Robb turns, “I would hope not.”

“You would prefer them to be outside?”, Theon asks with a confused thirtysix teeth embarrassed smile.

Robb sighs, “I'd rather discover nothing happened.”

“It works better if you give yourself a realistic alternative.”

“Thank you for the suggestion. - a groan – When I will need help, I'll ask.”

“You didn't ask before saying the chimney one, so I thought I was not supposed to give you this responsibility.”

Robb pauses, “Was it so awful?”

“Quite.”

They stop the horses and Theon starts walking on the moist greyish damp sand. The wind is more a slap than anything, it fills him with an annoyed, terrible weight. His sea, he should feel all free.

But he never is.

Is he?

He hears two familiar voices and walks towards some tall rocks, finding Sansa still dressed but completely drenched, bathing in a sort of small lagoon created by the rocks. She is laughing loudly as she had not in a long time, uncomposed and free. She does look less like the composed child of Eddard Stark now and more like the sweetling climbing the age of silly intentions and deeper cravings. Her auburn hair falls wet on her shoulders and the silk blue dress will most likely be ruined.

She doesn't care about any of that, for now. She laughs and Asha stares at her in awe, smiling confidently while her eyes already reveal a different, more entendered way, she can't show yet.

And now, now he finds they look a bit alike, after all.

He clears his voice, Robb arrives behind him shouting in mild panic.

Sansa turns, “Theon! Oh you must join too, this is such fun!”

“A bath?”, he mocks her.

“The water is warm!”, she giggles, splashing a bit with her hands.

Asha smirks, licking her lips slowly, “I'm not sure who else could define this sea warm except a Winterfell child, but she seems to fancy it as it is.”

“She sure does...”, Theon comments, half in a scoff, giving his sister a side eye.

Sansa raises from the waves and goes to hug her brother, trembling in a nervous, paranoid paleness, “You look worried, are you feeling unwell?”

“Unwell? - he coughs, his voice seems strangled – I, we were very worried about you.”

Sansa's eyes shine a bit, a little smile peeks through. Theon was worried too?

 

*

 

“What are you doing here?”

Asha turns slowly. She doesn't seem surprised nor scared, yet her smile looks nervous.

“Oh, Lord Stark, are you now joining the guards? Interesting employment choices.”

“Where are you going in the castle at this hour? Your rooms are in the other direction, or is it a habit of yours to never sleep in your own room?”

“Your sense of humor never ceases to not amuse me. - she snarks at him, almost snorting – I'm taking a stroll.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Are there laws also about this in the strict Winterfell? - she walks close to him, her hands caressing his chest – Forgive me, my lord, but you look so soft in other contexts... it's hard now to not interpret your strictness as a pretentious mask for another frustration.”

Robb stiffs, almost barks back, “I'm not frustrated. I'm concerned about your absolutely inappropriate interest in my sister.”

“Like the absolutely inappropriate interest you hold for my brother?”, she smirks.

“Theon is an adult. And not to be married any soon.”

“Maybe I'll marry him off then . - her eyes look amused but she is not, her smile is too sharp, her arms too tightly crossed – What shall the lord of Winterfell do then?”

“Sansa is... she doesn't know what she wants or asks for. She can't understand these matters.”

“But, were I to be Lord Tyrell, then she actually would understand it enough for me to bed her and get her with child?”

“It wouldn't bring her shame.”

“It won't if nobody knows.”

“She will know. - he lowers his eyes, the soft shade of the blue moonlight making his skin seem pail and fragile – And she'll have to forget you and that won't be easy with her too kind too gentle heart.”

“... like for you forgetting Theon?”

“I didn't say this.”

“You did. - Asha moves her hand and gives Robb a couple of light slaps on the cheeks, like some mothers do to children to make them stop moping or making a long face – You won't have to forget, she won't either. One can live also while remembering a better time.”

“Like you do?”, he asks, smiling.

Asha lowers her eyes, annoyed, “That's not what I said.”

“It is.”

And for a moment, when his hand travels on her waist and she breathes in, and her eyes linger on his chest and his on her lips, that marriage doesn't seem to either of them like such a bad idea. Robb grabs her back, Asha pulls him close and forces her tongue into his mouth, making him groan in approval and push her against the cold stone walls. She can feel his arousal hardening and her own melting, but stops in a cold shiver.

“Robb-”  
“Yes?”

“She saw us.”

He turns, letting her go, searching for an answer, “Sansa? Right now?”

She shakes her head, “Yesterday night, with Theon.”

“What?”

“She went in his room, I think she wanted to...well, confess her feelings, that's my guess, at least. But she saw us through the door and- I, I think you should talk to her about it.”

Robb seems to fail to breathe.

He sits on the floor, mostly falls sitting, his eyes staring in the void.

“What did she see?”

“When I asked I formulated it more about you being inside Theon, I figured it would have been what you wanted rather than your little sister to...”

“N-no need. - he stops her with the hand, then hides his face in it – So, I should deduce her interest in Theon disappeared?”

“Not quite, curiously. - she smiles – My brother must have made quite the impression if seeing him writhing like a delicious tavern slut didn't make her rush away. - she snorts – Or maybe you seem to her so masculine that...”

“...thank you.”

Asha shakes her head, “She is a tender one. Just like him.”

Robb turns, squints his eyes, perplexed.

“I know Theon seems so in control, so cocky, but... he truly is so soft and- oh isn't he just soft, tender wax... she is a bit like him. Maybe that's why.”

“Why she likes him or why she was not surprised?”

“Both.”

Asha glares at him.

Robb is still on the floor, sighing and meditating over what to do. She smiles, thinking that, really, he looks like the one with warmest hands, but he never seems to want to throw Theon into a new shape for the sake of his selfish will.

What a waste of power.

What a stupidly kind heart.

These Starks, really, how did they win against them? How did violent Rodrik and sly Maron lose their lives against a pack of dumb wolves and stags?

And yet, something in him, makes it clear what Theon saw. Who.

Proud, bold, yet warm. Determined, sweet.

A rare mixture, thick with scents of an older, happier time, which Asha saw disappear slowly and Theon barely could remember. If not in his dreams, if not in his wishes.

She shows her hand to Robb, “Need help?”

Robb shakes his head and rises, feeling guilty anyway at the thought of burdening a woman with his weight. For how little of a woman she was.

“Go to her, I'll wait for you in Theon's room.”

She kisses him on the cheek and he doesn't move away.

 

*

 

_I wouldn't ever think the gods hated me enough to have me find my mother in Sansa's room. She is brushing her hair softly and they seem to be singing together an old song._

“ _Sansa, Mother...”_

_My mother gives me a look that tells me enough about her disappointment._

_I can't blame her, I always knew Theon was not a delight for her._

“ _I wish to speak to Sansa alone for a moment, if possible. Is it better if I return later?”_

_Mom rises and comes close to me, taking me by the shoulders as if it was a matter of maximum secrecy, “I would advise you to be delicate in delivering your news, she won't take it well.”_

“ _Pardon?”_

“ _You came to advise her to drop her... silly infatuation for the Greyjoy, no?”_

“ _You know about it?”, I half choke._

“ _Oh, please! I mean, Theon is an older boy who grew up close to her brothers. I remember how it works.”_

“ _Oh. - thank Gods – Yes, of course, mother.”_

_She caresses my cheek and leaves, giving me a weird knot in the stomach I can't decode._

_I sit next to Sansa; she looks bright, happy, serene. I can't believe nor imagine her to have seen... that._

“ _You look ashamed.”_

_She blinks slowly._

_Somehow I knew she realized._

“ _Lady Greyjoy told me you witnessed our...”_

“ _... premarital rendez-vous? - there is no meanness in her words, she seems to be coming in my help, yet there is still a bitter veil on her blue eyes – I did. But I did not need to.”_

“ _I thought you fancied Theon.”_

_She looks at me slightly outraged as if I had said something awful. I realize I must have seemed blunt._

“ _I, I wanted to make sure it didn't hurt you.”_

“ _It was not the most dignified sight. - she tries to laugh but it comes out all wretched and wasted – But I knew he was not solely interested in ladies... - her eyelids flutter softly – You two seem to always be drawn to one another, like a whirlpool. I suppose trying to step into it, without any prediction of drift or leeway, that, I suppose, was my mistake.”_

_I take her hand in mine, see her getting tense and sadness knocking at the window of her eyes._

“ _I need you to keep the secret, Sansa.”_

“ _Do you fear me saying it to mother or father? - I can almost taste the iron in her disdain, a certain offended scorn, a bitter pride, we truly are alike in best and worst traits – How could I? For what? There's no love to save, there's no affection I'm balancing against yours on a plate. Theon loves you, that's just fair, and me, if he picked me, it'd be like you pick violets for a bouquet or blackberries in the thorn woods: for one day and then it withers and rots. He is not my husband, he is not my love. And I'm not his. - she looks now at her hands, as her cheeks flush coralline – Love shall come for me, as it came for you. Just, do me the favor do not waste such a rich gift.”_

“ _How... - I shake my head and bite my cheek – He... we can't take this on forever.”_

“ _Not all princes are made to be kings, Robb.”_

“ _He deserves his birthright. His Iron Islands, his home, his... it's all he ever wanted.”_

“ _Is it? - she smiles – Or is it all he ever said he wanted?”_

“ _What do you mean?”_

“ _Arya... she would call me stupid for just wanting love. For just wanting things to be beautiful and happy and lovely. I can understand that now. She is not made to be a girl, and perhaps this world, it seems, is not made for the girls it tries to build. - she remembers something, in the depths of her eyes the blue turns sadder – But I don't think only ladies may be hoping to be loved like in the songs.”_

“ _I am not sure I’m grasping...”_

“ _Don't you want it too? Sure, you want Winterfell, our lord father and lady mother's proud looks, but underneath all of that... don't you men crave too the sunlight, the dancing and one, one specific, pair of eyes to reflect yours?”_

“ _Sansa, I... can't take it away from him. Even if you were right.”_

_She looks down, sighing, “So you'll just go on until his father dies and then? Live with your heart cut in half? Marry a woman without any true care for her? Giving her caresses and kisses you'd hope would find Theon's skin instead of hers?”_

“ _Maybe. - I admit, annoyed, turning – That's just what people do in real life.”_

_I can feel her tremble and prepare to reply in protest, but I leave the room, and her behind._

_I can't have to defend a choice that kills me._

_As if I were happy to throw a dagger in my guts, to make it sink and then turn it around until all my organs bleed and mix and acid spills out and I taste pain bitter and sour in my mouth._

_As if I found joy in knowing what the right thing to do is._

_I know it, I'll do it. I don't need to have to repeat why to those who have not this burden to bear._

 

*

 

Asha looks at her like she didn't expect any different, and comes close. She still moves like if she were on the boat, with strong determined steps, but now she seems to be less noisy, as if not to startle her.

Sansa turns, looking sad, her hands still on the balcony, as if she couldn't let it go.

“Looking at the horizon? - she asks, chuckling – From here you can see the sea...”

“Yes... - she breathes in – It's immense.”

“Not as much as it seems.”

Her eyelids flutter, “So you can’t run away forever?”

“No. - she stares at the dark night sky – It's a dark moon night...”

“I expected you to be waiting for my brother and yours...”

“Is it jealousy I spot?”

Her hand goes on Sansa's hair and catches one of her locks; she plays with it, passing it through her fingers, staring at it, almost captivated, but enough in herself to check with the tail of her eyes, furtively, Sansa's flustered expression.

“Why would I be jealous?”

Asha smirks, teasing her, “You like Theon, don't you? - she kisses her lock – Don't you?”

“You make fun of me...”

“You have to forgive me, it's what people do, when they fancy a lady too much for their possibilities...”

“You...”

“I want you. And, it seems to me, you may want me too.”

“That's quite blunt.”

“I'll leave in two days. - she swallows, bitterly – My father, my people need me.”

“Then why would I...?”

“You won't have to wonder for a thousand years what it would have felt like... to have my hands on you, my lips, to be under me.... and you won't have to deal with the torment of whether to continue or not to feed a bottomless crave.”

Sansa hides a smile, “You are very confident, aren't you?”

“My mother taught me to be bold.”

“I doubt she meant for you to be in such situations.”

“She wouldn't mind, if she saw you, I'm sure.”

Sansa moves her hand on Asha's collarbones, on her strong shoulders. Her arms are hard and strong, despite the lean small build under. Her hair smell still like the sea, despite the days passed, they have the scent and the waves. Her whole skin, dry due to the wind, seems though so soft under her hands now... 

Asha caresses her cheek with the back of her hand.

“I'll be kind.”

“You won't.”

She shakes her head and lowers for a kiss, catching her by the waist, and smirks, “I won't.”

And for some reason that smirk sinks into Sansa's chest and she cherishes it as the ocean cherishes seashells and relicts.

Asha then lifts her, hiding her slight struggle, and gently takes her on the bed, caressing her hips and waist. Sansa kisses her, searches for her mouth in breathless pants and heartache emptying her lungs.

She grabs her close and keeps her so.

One can't keep her sails – she knows – and she'll be free again, in the troublous dark grey ocean with icy winds and a veil of blood and salt on her hands.

And she is no knight.

Maybe, maybe she is a bear, though.

Asha takes her face in her hand and kisses her, hungry. There is a bitter flavor in her mouth. Like when sweetness rots.

Sansa closes her eyes, opens her mouth, lets Asha in, as one would let the waves rush upon them when laying defenseless on a white, cold beach. Asha's other hand is next to her shoulders and starts to undo her nightgown.

Her shoulders shiver and she sees it.

Asha enjoys her trembling, the squirmy legs, the hands grabbing the sheets, the wet, tempted distress painted on her face. With a satisfied, elated, smirk, she breaks the kiss. She gorges herself in the sight of all she has under her.

She is, indeed, more of a bear than a maiden fair.

“- you seem pretty nervous.”

“Wouldn't you be?”

“At the time? No. But there is to say I was not exactly in your position.”, she says, trying to sound attentive.

Sansa looks at her window, at the jet black night with little to no weak stars.

Asha passes a hand through her hair, “Would you prefer my brother to be here with you?”

“I... I do not know what I want. - she pauses – I think, I think I fear I won't forget.”

“You'll have a lifetime to.”

“I'm afraid I won't want to.”

Asha smiles, this time tenderly, and bows on her to kiss her lips, just in a slight soft kiss.

“I'll try to make you relax a bit.”

Sansa frowns, confused, but then Asha moves away the night gown skirt raising it up over Sansa’s legs, and opens them, placing herself between them. She takes Sansa's leg on her shoulder and starts kissing it, with a candor soon to be set afire and lose all its gentleness.

Her tongue tickles Sansa's foot and calf, making her tremble. Her skin smells like sweet milk and lavender; somehow Asha feels harder at the idea of dirtying a bit that milk, to ruin those flowers, to leave it all mixed with her salty sandy seawater.

She sucks behind her knee and Sansa meowls, moves her hips inadvertently closer to Asha. She puts her hands over the mouth, trying to constrict back the little fugitive moans as Asha's tongue smolders and burns her thigh, travelling up to its most inner soft part. Her skin seems to burn and melt as Asha sucks there, insists, like a wolf who found a tasty meal, and paints her red and purple, while she can feel her groin wetter and hotter. She cries out a pleasured deep moan.

A weird new urge to touch herself rides up her spine.

She can feel her womanhood pulsing, begging for Asha's tongue to stop focusing on her legs and torment it instead. 

Asha's smirks cuts the night, she can feel it against the soft flesh of her pulsing thigh.

It kills Sansa to imagine how much waste her heart will fill itself with.

Asha takes her hand and kisses it gallantly. Their eyes meet and melt and hold tight.

And like the ocean tides, she moves back, lowering herself between Sansa's alabaster thighs. Her hands move under her legs, keeping her still, but Sansa is not sure why she woul- her acute moan makes her sit up, mouth agape and eyes wide. Asha seems pleased seeing her so; Sansa can't see her mouth, only her nose, resting on her ginger bush, but she knows she's smirking from the sharp gleam in her eyes.

Her tongue jolts again where it hit before and Sansa presses her hand against her mouth. Her skin seems to be about to burn, and yet she likes it, she wants more.

There is a thin line between pleasure and an uncomfortable sensation, but the foreboding sense of the first makes the latter just a tastier treat.

Asha's tongue is big and warm, it jolts against her softness in circles and then around and all over a spot, like she were trying to force a bulb to bloom. And, gods, Sansa feels her back threw in sparks of fire and need, her legs trembling, her hips moving for more. 

It feels weird, it feels strange... inside her, pulsing to be freed, something engorges and begs, something wild and needy and warm. She needs Asha's tongue now, she needs her darts and jerks and slow persistent teasing on her petals.

Her breath gets heavy against her hands, her eyes watery from the heat and moans she can't keep on a leash. Her bottom lip quivers as she lets the hand go and she uses them to clench the sheets, hold them tight, trying to regain herself.

But it gets harder and hotter.

She can feel herself opening up, wet, craving something, something that won't let her feel empty. And still, her bulb begs, begs for all the attention of Asha's tongue and the thought of her stopping makes Sansa insane. Her knuckles get white and she falls on the bed, powerless as Asha's rhythm gets faster, tormenting it now like a soft, needed slap. She takes it in her mouth and sucks it gently, Sansa screams, begs, writhes.

She can feel the need rush through her veins, bringing urge and haste – setting all her skin alive.

Need.

 

Now, now she understands what it means – the sensation of being ready to faint, to need more, it to stop and finish and to continue eternally, the pressing tension she feels inside, begging to burst soon...

“Please, - she lets out, in a whined moan – Please, I...”

Asha licks her whole, now slowly, then again with the rhythm of before and Sansa feels her hips jerking. A white spark crosses all her bones and makes her arch her back.

“More, please! - she begs, exasperated – Something, something is...”

Asha closes and reopens her eyes, holding her legs tighter and returns to her work, Sansa's nails sink in the sheets.

She loses her voice. Her wet juices run down her thighs. 

Everything feels so strong and almost painful – she just feels that against Asha's tongue she, she needs to shoot. To burst, to... she can't know.

Her movements get more and more insistent on a specific point and she can feel it – she can feel the bulb growing and reddening and- and it feels like her voice disappears in her throat. She can't scream nor moan, she just lets her lips quiver and no sound comes out. 

Heaven and hell are the same place, they are all in a bed, they are all in a same moment.

She arches her head and back, finally, releasing against Asha's eager tongue and she licks it more and more, but she can feel it so raw now she has to beg her to stop.

Asha raises, passes a hand on her face and smiles.

“Your hair is all ruffled, my lady.”

Sansa stares at her, frowning, panting, then grabs her by the blouse and kisses her, roughly, clumsily. She forces her tongue into Asha, she searches for her taste, she devours her protests.

As they separate, Asha just looks more aroused.

She grins, “I knew there was a wolf hiding here.”

“More.”

“My lady wants to be pleased more deeply?”

“Yes. But, I don't kn...”

“My lady doesn't need to worry.”

She says so and lifts her legs, almost vertical, holding them with one hand. Sansa is about to protest, having all of her so exposed, but then shamefully realizes Asha ate from that wet needy dish and licked it until she sent her to ecstasy, and she holds back the complaint.

Asha licks one of her fingers and enters slowly, “Well – she chuckles – You are well wet.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not for you, a bit for me. It's going be very hard to be delicate with such a – she adds another finger and Sansa bites her lips to suffocate a moan - ...delicious cunt calling for me.”

Sansa nods, weakly. It was calling for her. It was needing her.

Asha starts moving soon and Sansa's eyes roll in pleasure. Her insides feel opened and filled – the sensation almost makes her drunk.

She welcomes a third finger, feeling them moving fast, rubbing inside her and caressing her walls. She looks at Asha and finds her frowning, a serious, almost angry expression; she bites her lips in frustration, pleasure written on her eyes, but in an eager, hollow way. She sinks in Sansa trying to keep control and it seems to pain her going so slow. The veins on her arm look tense and big.

Sansa moans harder at every thrust, at every thrust Asha's control seems ready to crumble.

At four fingers, she curves them, caressing where Theon did caress her – she finds it easily in that tight tender new pussy, and rubs it until she can feel – see, clearly – Sans's juices dripping, all around her, her walls contracting, he voice unraveling and letting out squirmy lustful moans.

“No, it – it feels like... - her cheeks go red in urgency, pleasure, panic – I, this is not g...”

Asha insists, she presses, rubs, sees Sansa's flesh beg her lasciviously.

Sansa is about to protest again, when Asha makes her scoot further, she raises her legs completely and so part of her back, sinking into her from up.

Sansa can see it now, she can see it all, how the fingers enter and get swallowed up by her sinful, brute cunt. How she wants it so much she keeps asking for more, moving her hips. How it makes shivers run down her back when Asha rubs her in that point that feels wrong and hot and...

“Don't worry. - Asha growl, panting, her voice hoarse with desire kept on a chain like a starved dog – It feels like that, but it's not. Let it go.”

Sansa nods, weakly, she closes her eyes and tries to swallow her pride. She can feel Asha's fingers pressing it, the jolted pleasure, the waves of need and burn. She can feel her muscles tense and relax, trying to keep the fingers in when they leave, but also needing more inside- something bigger, something stronger – when Asha slows down she starts moving her hips against the hands, greedily.

Something charges her, dense and palpitating and throbbing.

Asha's other hand is on her neck now. It presses.

She opens her eyes, at first scared, then finding a weird awe in it. She felt taken in every way. Broken and tamed like a good horse.

Asha's hand grows tighter against her neck, until she can't breathe. And as Asha thrusts inside her and rubs her spot, it feels so much more vivid. Every breath that pleasure takes away from her lungs, it's close to her last. Every breath breaking in her ribcage feels so much heavier and needed and yet still, the bliss makes her a squirmy mess unable to stop. She can't stop anymore. 

She comes, wtih Asha's hand against the top of her cunt, with her throat closed and her eyes jerking open.

Asha leaves her neck, bends – still in her- and kisses her, biting her lips and sucking them.

But Asha's frowning expression, as she stays inside, trying to contain something.

“Should I stop?”

Sansa shakes her head, “Stay in a bit more, I 'd feel all empty without you.”

A pained smirk, “Does it fill you well?”

Sansa blushes and looks away, “I'd... I'd welcome more of you, if we could.”

“Don't you fear pain?”, she tilts her head.

And Sansa gets it now, she shakes her head, “You keep holding back, I doubt you'd hurt me, you've been so careful until now.”

“I thought you believed me unkind in bed.”

“Give me all you kept locked. - she kisses her again – As I did.”

Asha nods and traps her in a deep kiss, moving in and out, faster and fasters, feeling Sansa's muscles adapting to her hand, giving her space, wet and warm - then closing her fingers and pushing through with her whole fist. Sansa moans in her mouth, gasping.

It's not pain she feels rather it's surprise mixed with fear, but the only sensation is being pleasantly pulled, almost torn, all of her tense around Asha's hand.

“Tell me when I can move...”

“Immediately.”, she breathes out.

Asha smirks, with a full elation breaking on her face. And pushes, getting wet and hard and more aroused every thrust she takes, feeling Sansa tighten against her hand, her walls desperate to keep the fist in and have her break every resistance.

Sansa arches her back, letting the moans and screams now roll freed, one after the other in a flood of drenched needy remarks. The overloading sensation of having her inside open and stretch and Asha taking space – just brutally and simply, taking space, making it hers, entering in her body as she entered her mind: uninvited and needed.

Asha's grin grows the further she goes, with control over Sansa making her bolder, stronger, rougher. Sansa writhes, squirms, her legs shaking, her cunt begging for release and to be broken.

She calls Asha's name, two, three times in a row and then comes against her fist as it sink, thrusts and pushes on the roof of her needy cunt.

Panting, she looks for Asha, expecting to see her smirking; instead, she is still, her too breathless, staring at her. She takes out the wetted fist and slowly lays on Sansa, kissing her sweetly.

Sansa tastes iron and honey. She closes her eyes in happiness.

As Asha moves next to her and opens her arms, Sansa scoots between them and rests her head on the pirate's shoulder.

 

*

 

“Your sister is not here?”, Robb asks, entering the room.

Theon raises his eyes from his bow, “I think I would have noticed her. - he tastes a brief, bitter pause – Why? Missing her?”

“Oh no. - he smiles and goes on the bed, kissing Theon's soft lips, caressing his hair – It's decisively better like this.”

A smirk melting into a smile, “Good.”

“I have to ask you something, Theon...”

“How serious!”, a chuckle.

“Sansa, she... I told her of us and...”

“You told her what?”

“That we had... well, a rendez-vous. A private...”

Theon raises an eyebrow, “Did you tell her I was your woman?”

“No. - he lies, staring at him, after all, he didn't think of Theon as a woman, never did – I, I told her how much I love you, that we are two men and we have duties, that will keep us apart one day...”

Theon seems hurt, as if a sharp knife sunk into his chest.

He didn't want to think about that.

About a life without Robb.

He wanted it all: the glory, the kingdom, his father, but Robb- he wanted Robb too.

He belonged with Robb, in a way. He wonders if that's why as a kid he sometimes dreamed of marrying Sansa... to be a Stark, to have a part of the Starks, a part of Robb.

She looked so much like him, but them two shared a piece of soul in a way...

Robb – Robb more of it all... and yet, no. No.

Robb wouldn't have kept him if it meant giving away his birthright, his Winterfell. He wouldn't even give him his sister as a sign of trust.

And he?

He should compromise all his future for...?

“... we are.”

“We have to. - his eyes seem full of tears, but they don't drop down his cheeks – We have to be. - he breathes in and turns to him – I'm not going to take it away from you...”

Theon moves and kisses him deeply, pushing into him and breathing and drinking his taste.

Robb caresses his hair and neck. He smiles into the kiss, trying not to cry.

“But promise me... we will meet. Not like my father and the king, who never met in years and now can't recognize each other's face under the veil of age.”

“They were not lovers. - Theon mumbles, kissing Robb's hair – I won't let you forget me for some Manderly's tiny cunt.”

“Don't forget me over some sea wench...”

Robb leans, his forehead against Theon's, breathes in his scent.

“Is it awful that I hope for your father to live a thousand years?”

“A bit. - Theon admits – But I hope your future wife will be as ugly as a broom, so...”

Robb snorts, “Even if she were as beautiful as the sun, she wouldn't be as you. I couldn't be able to... compare and miss and think about you...”

He caresses Theon's arm and Theon pulls him closer.

“I need you...”, he says.

Robb smiles, wondering if he'll hear a 'love' sometimes; though neither of them is sure they'd survive separation if those words dropped, said, in the air they breathe.

“I need you too.”, Robb kisses him.

“Robb. - Theon swallows – I, I asked Asha to leave us alone tonight.”

“How come?”

“I want to... be just the two of us this time.”

Robb grins, kissing him with new enthusiasm, and makes him lay on the bed, rolling over him.

“I missed you so.”

“You should have said so.”, Theon chuckles, pulling him close until their crotches rub and harden one against the other. He smirks against the kiss and Robb holds his waist tight.

He's a merciless beautiful man, he drinks and drinks his soul until none is left. And under it all a tender heart.

It didn't matter, whether anyone else saw it: his lord father, his lady mother, knights and advisors, not even Luwin nor his brothers. He knew.

He saw that Theon, he saw him.

And maybe he preferred not to share.

He had to share everything during his life and nothing was ever his own... maybe Theon, Theon could be only his, at least that Theon hidden under the cocky armored smile.

At least that one, please, the gods could leave him, as his only joy.

He kisses him deeper and Theon holds him down on himself, close so that their lungs are pressed together.

“I want you.”

Theon swallows, nodding, “Well, I'm guessing you'll need some oil.”

Robb caresses his hair, “Are you sure I can?”

Theon grabs Robb's chin, kissing his lips, pulling them with his teeth, then he stares into his eyes. That was quite the yes for Robb.

He looks so suddenly innocent, despite the beard now coming through, despite his lips curled in a smile mischievous and lustful. His Robb.

How could someone so... true, so loyal, love him so?

He, he is the man of the songs, the true prince, the true knight – he, he was the sailor with too many saltwhores. And a chain at his neck.

But Robb never saw that chain. He saw the chance of a time together.

He couldn't understand how much a chain can burn your neck, how tight the dog collar clogs your words and blurs your heart into loving it.

Or anything else, really.

Robb takes off his pants, lets them fall, and takes off also Theon's, laughing a bit and asking for help; Theon chuckles and refuses. The air spins and they are about to crash like waves into each other.

Storms only breed relicts and lost souls.

And yet, their thunders echo in furious beauty for those who watch them.

Robb bites Theon's lips, drinks their moans and whines, starts rubbing against him. He can feel his muscles tense, harden, need. Theon pulls him close and moves his hips, slowly, then tilts his head, deepening the kiss and sinking deeper into him.

The heart crumbles when their lips part and it rebuilds itself as their tongues meet. 

And Robb groans against Theon's smirking mouth.

Theon licks his lips, then pulls Robb closer, staring into his eyes.

“You belong to me.”

“Always have.”

“Don't you dare miss her.”

“I'm not sure how you think she can compare...”, Robb admits.

He gets why Theon would doubt. But still it was laughable to him the simple idea.

Theon tries to swallow those words, then grabs Robb back and stuffs his mouth with his tongue, conducting the game, making him hard against his own erection. Rubbing made their cocks painfully hard, every movement a spark, sharp as a needle inside their backs.

Robb's hand goes on Theon's cock, his grip strong, his thumb roughly caressing the sensitive tip, making Theon melt in moans and his legs weak. His muscles unravel, his voice breaks in a high-pitched cry. Robb squeezes it slightly, trying to find his limits and middle ways, trying to discover what feels good and making himself drunk and proud with Theon's needy expression.

Needy, slutty, powerless.

He loves this newly acquired control over Theon, this deep amazing force he has. How he can finally dominate him, fill him to the brink and tare him up with his cock and make him feel madly, insanely, good while doing it. 

Theon's drenched, feverish moans, his panting, the way his face heats up – his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes closed, his lips quivering – hardens him. It makes his blood boil and his senses saturate in greedy hasty need.

He bites Theon's neck, sucking it, feeling his skin burning against his tongue. He can drink his heartbeat, swallow his delicious twisted voice. He rubs still against Theon, rubbing him while jerking him off.

He twists, squirmy, as Robb's rock-hard cock and his own touch restlessly.

He comes against Robb's stomach and stares at his thick dripping juice.

Robb grins, victorious. He really is a bit cocky, but Theon doesn't mind.

Robb grabs an oil bottle from the night-table and pours its content on his hands.

“How eager...”, Theon comments, in a chuckle.

“You are quite addictive.”, Robb's voice is tense and dense with arousal, hoarse in need for release.

Theon claws him, bringing him close, “From behind.”

“I want to watch you.”

“You watched enough...”, Theon looks away.

Robb bites his bottom lip- it was so unfair it turned his stomach upwards. He grabs Theon by the ankle and flips him, making him lay on his stomach.

He bites his ass and Theon screams, ecstatic. He lets his tongue out and pants, holding the blankets.

Robb stuffs his ass, a finger a time, moving them in, quickly, without stopping, opening him without regards. Theon would like to protest, to fake some decency; but he has none – his lungs are liquefied moans riding one over the other, begging for more.

Robb takes out his fingers and enters, raw and thick, pulling Theon's flesh. Theon tries to groan a protest, but as soon as Robb pounds into him, hard enough to tear him, his grunt just becomes a lewd desperate whine for more.

“Gods, yes... - he pleas, Robb hitting his prostate like he had to smash it and fire bursting in his veins – More,..more.”

“Do you want me to break your tight ass?”

Theon turns, frowning, surprising himself by getting harder again, “What?”

Robb's grip on his hips tightens, as he slams deeper and harder, anger riding his nerves.

“You don't want me to watch your face? Just to fuck you? Are you a tavern wench?”

Theon pants, “Robb, slow down, I-”

Robb slams into his prostate, making him see white and his cock painfully stiff.

He screams, suffocating a moan in the bed, but Robb's fingernails sink in his skin as he pounds, thrusting harder, balls-deep. A piercing mix of pain and pleasure rushes inside Theon's veins, making him squirm in a messy filthy whine.

“Are you a whore? Do you enjoy me just like this? - he asks, pushing, just getting lustful moans in return – Reply!”

As Robb roars, his cock feels hard, big at the point Theon's ass feel broken and kept together just by his dick. Theon trembles, to his own shame, ecstatic.

He tries to reply, but another thrust makes him swallow his words and makes him too weak and too aroused to keep himself up, “I don't want you to see me...like this..”, he whispers.

Robb pushes his head on the bed, pulls out and enters just with the fingers. He rubs Theon's sweet spot directly, enjoying seeing him moan desperate, lewdly moving his hips against his hand, and still, sad, like a crying lamb, as he starts to feel empty without Robb's cock inside him.

“Please... - he begs – Please, enter again.”

“You can come also like this.”, Robb's voice sounds sharp and bitter.

Theon bites his lips, then his eyes get watery in shame, “I need you inside, I want you inside.”

Robb takes his fingers out and makes Theon turn, kissing him at once, holding him close. Theon searches immediately for his mouth, pushes his tongue in, filling Robb, and throws his arms around his neck crossing his legs around Robb's waist.

“Watch me if you need to. - his voice is still a feeble mix of moans – Watch me losing all of me under you. - he pauses – Only under you.”

Robb slides in and moves, first slowly, then fast, with strong thrusts, sinking into Theon's sweetness and cherishing every depraved horny expression the ironborn was giving him.

Theon hides his face in Robb's collarbones, whispering, “Come inside.”

Robb remembers Theon saying he refused to be marked weeks before, the way he said he was no cattle to be branded. And now he bucked against his cock, fucking himself on it, asking him to release into him.

He kisses his hair.

Long and black as the darkness he was made of.

“Hold tight.”, he warns, before slamming enough to make him scoot and scream, pinning him on the bed and ramming into him, hitting him at every single thrust in his tender vulnerable spot that drove him so insane. Theon shouts, smiling, moving against Robb and enjoying every inch of slight pain that came with the bliss and lust – he could feel his own cock ready to burst at the mere burning sensation of Robb's shaft pressing inside him and destroying him.

He comes again, this time staining his own stomach; but he gets no rest, before coming again, this time dryly, as Robb keeps pressing and pushing, unable to stop until he too will release, fucking the raw sweet flesh, oversensitive with the afterglow. Theon bites into Robb's shoulder, scratches trenches on his back, taken as by a seizure of pleasure – all control lost, as he closes his eyes, enjoying the delicious sensation of Robb's sperm staining him inside.

Robb falls on Theon, exhausted. He winches at the sudden pain in his back, which before just felt so good.

“I hate you sometimes...”, Theon whispers.

Robb smiles, “I hate you too sometimes.”

“It felt good.”, he admits, staring at the ceiling.

He is not sure why, but having Robb tell him that stuff, humiliating him like that – not in a murmur as Asha did, but out loud, angered and yet in love, so possessive – it felt better than anything he ever tried before.

Robb looks genuinely pleased, an oblique smirk rises on his face and he raises his eyebrow, “Want to do it again in ten?”

“I think my back rear will need a bit longer. - Theon rolls his eyes to the ceiling – But why not?”

 

*

 

_Rip me apart._

_Pull me away from my own self and destroy my flesh; for I am dead and reborn under your kisses and inside your flesh, for I am nothing but your own caprice, pending from your swollen rosy lips, wrapped around your fingers, I shall just be a piece of you._

_Tear my heart to pieces, when you leave me._

_Don't leave it still able to beat and pulse, when you won't be here making my blood warm._

_Living without your fingertips lingering on me and your body brushing against mine in a prayer to beauty and greed – that truly would be living dead._

_I lose my sense in you, you burn me whole – you make me coal and ashes, and grace be mine I thank the gods, because at least alas I felt, I felt for real, after years lovestarvedly craving you._

_You open my eyes, you hollow them – spooning them and eating them._

_I won't watch anyone after you, I won't love anyone after you._

_Feed off my heart too._

_Feed off all of me. Keep it as my blood marks your mouth and bowels._

_Remember me, when the sea will take you away and the salt baptize your veins, when you won't hear wolves crying at the moon our names, when the warm winds of your home won't be as warm as my arms. Remember me with pain and agony and longing._

_I'll remember you the same._

_Outside the morning light cuts the sky._

“ _My sister will leave tomorrow at dawn... - Theon caresses my chest – Just one day.”_

_His hands are warm. His glance shy._

“ _You'll miss her?”_

“ _Can you miss something that angers, annoys and disturbs you?”_

_I laugh, “Yes, you can.”_

“ _Then I may.”, Theon admits, unwillingly, snuggling against my chest._

 

*

 

She wakes up slowly; her eyes burdened by the sunlight, heavy with shallow sleep and poor rest. She rises with a swollen, roundish pain, in her arms. Gold bathes the room, the reddish copper curtains of her bed set alight by the morning. She can't hear birds sing in the silence immersed in the thick light.

“Good morning.”

She turns, finding Asha next to her, boots in her hands, dressed and ready to evacuate the field in a quick retreat.

She gives her as a present a bitter smile.

“Good morning... - she moves the hair from her face, the locks shine the same color of the bed curtains and unburning flames rest on her shoulders – Are you leaving?”

“I fear your lady mother or dear brother will be here soon. - she snarks, hiding a certain shiver down her spine – They surely won't fancy finding me here.”

“Nor do you.”

“What's that to mean?”

Sansa raises her eyebrows, “I know some games are not meant to be played twice, nor to boast having played them.”

“Then why do I feel bitterness riding your tongue, my sweet country bird?”

“Nightingales don't get lost in the light of the day, they keep their voices for the moon. And I won't mistake what the moon gave us for more than a nocturnal tide, but don't mock my mind by disappearing as the sun peeks on the windows. I am no child for you to patronize.”

Asha blinks, slowly, then clacks her tongue against the palate and lowers her face in a sorry expression.

Sansa climbs down from the high bed, walking towards the water bowls to wash herself with.

“Tides tend to repeat, my lady.”, Asha murmurs under her breath.

Sansa's hands meet the cold water, the smell of the rose petals in it, the lavender oil softening her skin. Asha holds her from behind and sinks her face in her neck, breathing the scent of her hair.

“I'll miss nightingales in the nights at sea.”

“Seagulls will keep you good company.”

“Their voices are shrieks and no music comes from them.”

“Then perhaps you may...”

Asha's hands climb her thigh, her lips seize her neck and cover it in kisses – they burn and taste of mistaken times and blinded paths. Sansa breathes, turns, tries to protest, but Asha raises her and makes her sit on the table, spreading her legs.

The bowl throws water on the ground and makes a heavy wooden sound they can't hear.

Their mouths melt in each other, Asha's hand taking space, taking time and life invading Sansa's sweet flesh. Sansa closing her eyes, as the pirate's mouth tears her buttons away and attacks her small breast, biting her nipples like cherries.

She closes her eyes.

Skylarks sing high in the trees.

 

*

 

“I need to see my sister.”, Robb mumbles, putting on a belt.

Theon sighs, kissing him on the neck, “Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Why?”

“I mistreated her yesterday, while she was just trying to help... I was awful.”

“You tend to be quite unfair when angry. - he admits, then gains an ill look from Robb – Well, you keep the kettle covered until it bursts.”

“Thank you. - he groans – As if you were transparent.”

Theon smirks and kisses Robb's ear, sucking his lobe.

Robb grunts, “Oh please, not now...”

“I want you.”

“Do you already feel empty?”

“In a way. - he admits, - But I also want to take my revenge on your ass.”

Robb shakes his head, “After I say sorry to Sansa.”

“Sure... should I come too?”

“If you please.”

Theon kisses Robb's cheek, “After, we may go for a ride.”

“In the woods?”

“In the woods...”, Theon approves, smirking, imagining sweet Robb's body being fucked in the moss.

His hands go on Robb's hips and Robb pulls him in a hungry kiss. He tastes sour, in need of breakfast, and yet Theon digs into his mouth, wishing to be eaten.

Maybe his blood would have tasted as sweet as his heart did.

On a stick, cut open.

Its thick walls devoured with every sensual night.

He couldn't complain.

Robb offered him to stay after all, but how could have he? His place was his throne. It called for him.

The smoke rising from the pyre of his own heart chokes him.

He rubs away a meek tear, “In the woods, sounds fun. I'll go dress.”

“Forest green and teal for my peacock?”

“And gold. - he sticks his tongue out then smiles charmingly – It suits me the most.”

“Everything suits you the most.”

“Pretty sure that's grammatically impossible.”

“You can't fight reality with grammar.”

Theon kisses him and bites his bottom lip, making Robb groan in pleasure, his teeth clenched in an aroused grin.

 

*

 

Sansa pulls Asha by the shirt, leads her again on the bed. Asha kisses her eagerly, one kiss blurred into the one after, and her hands on all her skin - squeezing her breasts that feel so soft against her rude coarse palms, her sweet thighs smooth as silk, as leaves shivering against her. As she misses her, as she craves her, Asha bites and takes, she pushes her tongue in, until she feel Sansa's breath lacking, the she bites her trembling soft rose lips. A drop of blood makes them fuller and darker, but no whine in protest rises from the little mouth, too enchanted, too feverish.

The sheets haven’t become cold yet when they drown into them again. 

Asha throws away her clothes, Sansa helping clumsily and hungrily - leather harsh against her fingertips, yellowed wool unpleasant to the touch. And yet, under it all, Asha's warm skin.

Asha grins, pushes Sansa against the mattress and stares, breathless and smug, at her chest – white like porcelain and milk, stained by pink, in the sunlight, her breath shaking her ribcage, and the hair the color of summer fruits shining like silk on the sheets, and her eyes begging for a kiss. And for a moment, she almost can hear birds sing too.

But just for a moment.

Sansa's soft hand is on her cheek, “Did you get disoriented in the daylight?”

“It's the moon, blinding you.”

“Such a potent light for a moon. - Sansa smiles – You must be quite a lousy captain to confuse day and night.”

“And you a great lady, putting people in their places, with a sharp tongue like that. - a grin – I should shut you up.”

“You should.”

A knock on the door freezes them, and not moving, like deer in the face of spears, they stay and meet the door opening – Theon entering, his face going pale as he tries to close it again, quickly, but another hand stops him, confused.

“Sansa...?”

She awakes now, and grabs the sheets to cover herself, blushing in shame.

Robb reaches them in quick steps, furious, “What's happening here?”

“I- Robb- it's not-”

He turns to Asha and slaps her quickly, harshly.

Theon stares, realizing she must have let him. He wouldn't manage to catch her by surprise otherwise.

He walks to Robb and grabs his hand, “Let's leave... it's none of our business...”

“It is. She is my sister. - he roars – How could you?”

Asha massages her burning cheek, “Greyjoys seem to have little control with Starks around.”

“You, I'll have your damn head on a stick.”

Asha was about to reply, but Sansa looks at her brother in tears, “Oh, Robb, please, forgive me. Forgive her too, if anything there is for her to be forgiven for. I wanted it, I asked it.”

“You are a child.”

“A child to be married. - she précises, hiding her annoyance under a tender lamb look – But I did, you see, get afraid. Men can be unkind, and Asha... Asha introduced me to what a lady...”

“What can Asha knows of ladies and lords? - he shouts – Did she touch you? Are you intact?”

Intact.

Theon chuckles, “She is not a vase, Robb.”

“Are you defending your sister?”

Theon shakes his head, as if he was speaking to a stupid person, “You won't come intact to your bride either. Nor will I. We all broke before our time. Can you blame her for wanting a person she liked instead of some Tyrell with pretty eyes she never heard the voice of? - he frowns – My sister may be rude, but she is no man, and Sansa is not with child. Nobody will tell and nobody will suspect. She lived up and will live in the deep north until her day in a golden carriage of thorns will come. Who would inspect her?”

“That's no reason to...”

“Am I a reason to? - he mocks – Let her, Robb, she deserves no scolding.”

“She's a woman.”

“I am to guess, were I a woman to be married to someone else, I should have never slept with you?”

Robb bites his lips.

Theon turns to Sansa, “But you have truly ill tastes, little lady, to pick that sibling.”

Sansa tries to smile.

Robb turns to Asha and offers her a hand, “I'm sorry I slapped you.”

“Were I a man, you'd have stabbed my guts, so I guess I should be offended about your lack of consideration.”

“I can still stab your guts, if you want. - a little smile – But I'm not sure it'd serve anyone.”

Asha moves and finds her blouse to cover herself with, “I'll go away before, if I must.”

“Oh, please, no!”

Sansa moves to her and holds her, hiding in her arms. Asha caresses her back softly.

“Don't make it worse, your brother spoke.”

“Won't you stay at least a bit more?”

Robb stares at them with a vague uncomfortable sensation he can't explain. Sansa's chest pressed against Asha's, their boobs caressing, the long hair of his own sister barely covering a back of hickeys, Asha's hands keeping her against herself like he'd do with Theon and Theon with him.

Theon seems caught in a similar discomfort, swallowing, as he tries to look away.

Sansa turns to Robb, “Be kind, I beg you, let her stay. We'll part soon anyway.”

He glances at Theon for advice and finds him staring at his sister's tender soft back, at the bite marks, at her small ass. He stiffs, something hardening between his legs.

“Theon. - he calls him, annoyed – Stop staring.”

“I'm sorry.”, his look glances away.

Asha looks over at Robb, “Why are you scolding him? You stare too.”

“Way differently.”

“I doubt.”

Sansa turns to Theon and, seeing his engorged pants, feels a weird pride staining her cheeks red.

“Is this for me?”, she asks.

Theon swallows, “You look quite different right now.”

“Like a woman, perhaps? And not a child to play with in the garden while training archery?”, she provokes him.

He gives her one of his charming smiles, “Perhaps.”

“You two. - Robb shouts – Stop this right now.”

“This what?”, Asha chuckles, her hand moving to Robb's ear and caressing it.

She finds it red, sucked by his brother before, and smirks, licking it slowly.

Robb stiffs and swallows, “This.”

“Oh, don't act like such a prude. - her tongue jolts in his ear, then descends down his neck – You missed me yesterday night? While fucking my brother's ass?”

Sansa seems annoyed at seeing her lover now giving her attention to Robb, she frowns, and Theon runs a hand around her waist, grabbing her and pulling her close, “Asha seem to fancy some crowded activities... would you mind, if I were to kiss you?”

“Kiss me?”, she seems to almost mock him and this is enough to make him harder.

He kisses her, pushes her on the bed, under Robb's frustrated look, while Asha starts caressing his crotch.

“You spoke so severely. - she whispers, finding him rock-hard – But you don't seem to mind your sister melting like butter under his hands. Is it because you love him? - she gives his cock a squeeze making him almost moan – Or is it yourself you are seeing?”

“What are you speaking about?”

“Oh, don't tell me you never fantasized... about an easier way, an easier alternative. For you, for him, for both. If you had a pussy, he could have fucked you instead of the tavern wenches he probably emptied his balls into. If he had one, you would have tamed all her hungers and sank into her with no mercy nor secret...”

“You are being delirious.”

“Am I? - her hand holds his shaft and jerks him strong and fast – You seem to quite like it, though.”

He gasps silently like a fish, staring as Theon, fully dressed, laying atop a Sansa dressed just in purple and red lip traces. She holds his face as he kisses her, his long black hair covering her little fingers, his hips pushing against her womanhood, her welcoming legs trembling in bliss against him.

Robb closes his eyes, bends his neck and lets Asha suck on it, while her thumb presses his tip, her fingers provoking his pulsating erection, constricted against her grip.

Theon grabs Sansa's boobs, sucks her soft nipples, tormenting them with tongue and hands. Sansa moans, feeling herself warm and dizzy with need. Her head goes light and she kisses Theon's head, holding him close.

She is still unsure of how or why it feels good, of her body, but she can now distinguish the needy languish languid feel of her outside pulsing to be touched.

She grabs his garment and clothes, searches for him under the wool and leather, her knuckles white as she holds onto it, moaning as her nipples get hard and feel painfully good against his teeth.

Asha kisses Robb's forehead, caresses his head, jerking his red cock, big and hard in her hand, at the point of bursting just by seeing Theon sinking his tongue between his sister's thighs, holding her legs, his hands so much bigger than her knees.

She squirms, arches her back and head, letting out a scream drenched in pleasure.

Robb suppresses his own moans, seeing Theon lapping her then entering a finger at the time, making her twitch and bite her lips, struggling for air.

Sansa turns to him and Asha, staring unphased, “Closer...”, she whispers, reaching.

Asha moves and kisses her, passionately, fills her mouth and pinches her nipples, making her writhe against Theon's face. He raises, pushing another finger in, finding her cunt welcomingly warm and wet, and turns to Robb, staring at him in the eyes, as he starts to move, hard and fast, inside Sansa.

Robb bites his lips then rushes to Theon and kisses him, presenting his cock to him like a pious offer to a merciful god.

Theon smirks and nods, kissing him more, while his fingers makes Sansa moan directly into Asha's mouth, breaking her in sparks of bliss and need.

Asha comes to Sansa's ear and whispers something that makes her widen her eyes. She bites her lips and doesn't refuse, instead nods and kisses her more.

Robb caresses Theon's hips and sucks the little soft flesh of his love handles, marking them red.

Theon grins in pleasure, his dick hard against Sansa's entrance,

“Don't come inside.”, Robb reminds him, more out of some possessive need than out of responsible worry.

Theon seems to know, because he smirks, smug, and says, “I wouldn't without your permission.”

Sansa glances at Theon, her eyes hot in scorching pleasure, staring at him in a desperate blissful prayer.

He sinks in her drenched warmth. She is soft around his cock, tight but he forces himself though and hits all of her in a thrust. She moans in need and Asha fills her mouth with her breast.

They are soft like cream in her mouth and Sansa licks their tips, gently, shyly and yet hungrily, as a child who discovers honey. It gives her pleasure to almost choke on them, while she can feel Theon hammering into her, a slam after the other, with careless roughness.

He sinks deeper, growling, arching his back while pumping into her sweetness. She moves against him, riding him in waves, moving onto him to feel him more.

Theon strikes her harder, pushes to her top, making her hips twist and shake.

Robb bites his shoulders, angry wolf claiming his prey, and sinks to the blood, making Theon scream and wail in elated arousal, which stiffs his cock and stirs his spine in pleasure.

Theon lays his head back, against Robb's chest, welcomes his tongue in his throat and his fingers up his ass, one after the other, craving more each turn.

Robb stirs him, widens him and pushes through his tight smoldering flesh. Theon's insides feel like heaven and he presses through them, tearing them aside, entering him.

Theon pushes into Sansa harder, unable to stop, his cock getting bigger and harder inside her as Robb rubs inside him and prepares to enter him. Sansa whines, moans, protests, her tongue jolting on Asha's nipple, as she presses her head against it and rubs her own clit, imagining Sansa's mouth down on it.

Her eyes wet in tears and roll to the ceiling as she sucks, trying to suffocate her own voice, as Theon presses and thrusts into her, faster, hitting her without rest.

Robb presses his head against Theon's entrance and pushes through him in a rough thrust.

Theon screams, turns, Robb seals his mouth in a violent kiss, taking over him, and they start thrusting together, their pushes in sync. Robb pushes, thrust, drowning his whole length in Theon's softness; his cock constricted in the tight heat of the flesh burning in pleasure against his erection.

Theon falls over, thrusting into Sansa more and more desperately and fast, making her scream and tighten, her cunt tensing as pleasure approached and inundates her raw flesh. Her voice unravels in a soaked blissful rain of moans.

Asha shuts her mouth with a kiss, caressing her hair and face.

She feels a rush of pleasure burst into her against Theon's tip, as it pushes and presses, and makes her full. She screams into Asha and Asha sips on her pleasure. Theon's hips can't stop, he rides her waves, fills her, breaks her, needing to find a release for himself too, as he feels her orgasms breaking against him.

She sinks her nails into him, drawing trenches of open flesh on his back, riding her own pleasure, moving herself on his cock as Theon never ceases pushing and throbbing into her.

Robb stiffs in anger, seeing her marks on his lover and slams in force, as if he had to tear Theon apart. And Theon feels opened.

Robb finds his sore, needy prostate and hits it, slams into it, bending Theon to an undignified, delirious expression, his mouth with the tongue hanging open, his halflidden eyes in the void, and then, a bang after the other, faster and stronger, until Sansa screams again, her legs shaking, the bed wetted to the mallow.

Asha clenches Theon's cock, roaring, “Not inside here.”

Her brother gives her a look meant as a threat but it just arouses her to no end. She clenches him harder, making him whine in pain and pleasure.

She takes him out of Sansa and sits on his cock, riding him into ecstasy and letting him pour his cum into her. Robb hits inside him again, roughly, making Theon scream, harden and then come – dry, mute, amazed – and coming into him with a last thrust.

Sansa trembles, her knees weak, and reaches Theon to kiss him, slowly, tenderly. He exists the sister and stares down at her, not with a hint of satisfaction in tasting the power of having her envy him right then.

“You didn't come yet. - he states, then kisses Sansa's cheek – Maybe I should let her do it.”

Sansa hesitates, “I'm unsure how...”

“Leaving her like this would be quite selfish, wouldn't it?”, Theon comments in a smirk, taking Sansa's hand and moving it on Asha's clit, slowly, in circles.

Elation shines on Sansa as she sees, speechless, Asha twist and writhe under her touch, her clit exposed and aroused, in need for her fingertips. Asha closes her eyes, enjoying viciously every single drop of pleasure she can feel now rushing through her veins, getting dense and electric in her cunt.

Theon grins, putting himself on all fours right above Asha's mouth and then rubbing his cock on her lips. She smirks.

“Suck it.”, he orders, lowering himself, and she lets him think she obeys.

He moves slightly, dipping himself into her, while staring at Sansa playing with her delicate pulsating womanhood: it is quite the spectacle, a girl so shy and quite clumsy discovering how to pleasure a woman so bossy who was sucking his cock like it dripped cum of gold.

Theon turns to Robb, behind him, staring at his ass.

“Enter again. - he grins, breathless – Empty already.”

Robb smiles, pushing through Theon again, this time without wasting time to prepare him, and sinking his whole length in a single push. Theon arches his back in delight at feeling again the delicious pain of his body invaded and used, while he fucks Asha's mouth, carelessly, enjoying filling her up and making her struggle to breathe.

Sansa then moves, opens her legs and rubs herself against Asha, making her howl with her mouth full of Theon's cock, muffling her moans, turning them into a chocked whine. Sansa moves trembling, doubtful, following the sparks of pleasure seizing her as her clit rubbed against Asha's, like cherries squished together that desire to break into juice.

She whimpers at her own movements, often stops, then moves erratically, struggling to keep moving, as she gets more and more aroused, more and more in need of someone to pleasure her. Her sweet thighs all wet in cum and honeyed sweat, she would move over Asha and rub herself on that arousal of that, that it seemed to Sansa almost a cock too small.

Her hips fail her, letting her almost fall multiple times, as she tries to focus and ride herself to pleasure.

Theon stares at her half-enchanted, wishing he could suck her small breast, while he fucks Asha's mouth, his loins faster with the pressure and rhythm decided by Robb's brutal thrusts, that shook him sore.

His cock seems about to burst from bliss, but it's his damn ass that feels divine. Robb is angry, almost ferocious, fucking him with that spark of fury and possessive passion that makes him unkind, fiery. He slams as if Theon had a pussy to bang, as if he had to fill him as a cheap whore.

He can barely think as Robb's whole cock fucks him, up to the brink, bringing him to the edge. His balls slap against his hole, reminding him what a good whore he is in taking all of his owner in.

Sansa comes, falls on Asha, who puts her hands on her hips, forcing her to stay sat and rubs against her enough to come herself against her blooming wet cherry. As she moans in delight, moving her tongue and sucking, Theon comes into her, emptying himself in her mouth.

Robb kisses his shoulders and holds him close to him, by the neck, by the hips, sinking into his loins, fucking him until Theon's raw, sore flesh felt alight in new pleasure. His sweet spots rammed, he closes his eyes, letting Robb take over him and melting into a puddle of cum and writhed whimpers, as he comes, again, and Robb into him. 

As one does with his bride.

He falls over him, remaining inside, as Theon lays on the sheets.

Asha pants, moving away and welcoming Sansa in her arms, kissing her sweetly, giving her a taste of Theon's cum. Sansa closes her eyes, resting her head against Asha's soft chest.

Theon moves slowly under Robb, enjoying his warm breath on his neck, but needing to cover him in kisses and marks. His back burns in the trenches left by nails and bites, but he can barely feel his rear by now.

He chuckles, “You mistook me for a woman, slamming like that?”

Robb laughs weakly and kisses him, “You felt too good.”

His eyes fall on Sansa, now half-asleep, held by Asha.

He feels his heart sinking for an instant.

“You'll leave tomorrow at dawn?”

Asha nods, “I ordered already my men to be ready.”

Theon looks at her sadly, “Will you tell father... will you bring him my regards?”

“I will. - a smirk – But I'll censor the rest.”

Robb scoffs.

“And you? - she smiles – Will you marry the Manderly girl?”

“I shall... - he looks over at Theon – Duty comes before, after all.”

Theon rests on his shoulders, “I hope she'll have a pussy that tastes like iron and smells like fish.”

“Well, well, don't you wish me well?”

“I love you.”

Robb blinks. Theon stares at him, serious. He doesn't move away, he doesn't look at the corners of the room.

He smirks slightly, sharp and smug, but honest. His eyebrows a bit tilted in a shy tenderness.

Robb smiles, without realizing it, as if his face became light he couldn't control.

“I love you too.”

“What a waste...”, Theon chuckles, licking his lips, bitter and yet, again, happy.

 

*

 

Salt brims in her mouth and burns her chopped lips.

She stares at the vast sea, wind blowing in her face.

Theon and Robb on horses, ready to ride North once again, where they'll announce Ned Stark the failed marriage plans, Lady Catelyn and her daughter, instead, ready to head South on a small carriage. She can see them still on the beaches.

The sun rises slow and she remembers a weird shiver inside her.

“What a powder keg...”, she shakes her head.

She turns to her men and grins. Life lies always ahead, in the open sea, and never behind on beaches.

 

*

 

_I will blame myself, if I need to._

_Theon smirks, laughs and kisses me, rolling on the bed, naked, holding me tight._

_I will blame myself for the heartache and the pain that will come. But for now, unable to think reasonably and stop, I will dive into these tortuous beautiful waters of bliss._

_And when we will both marry someone else, still we won't stop remembering our times of summer kisses and our nights of pleasures._

_Under sheets burning with desire, we will hide ourselves a bit more from all we have to be._

_And try for a bit to play a game, in which we are just Theon and just Robb._

_And you have no home to return to and I have no lord power over you._

_And in this game we hurt ourselves, carving the name of the other in our hearts through the skin we leave bite marks and hickeys and kisses on._

_And I'll say “I love you” many nights again._

_Until time and adulthood and duty will strip us of every happiness._

_And, when that will be, I will blame myself for loving you too much._

_As if._

_As if I could regret you._

 

 


End file.
